All The World's A Stage
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: AU. All Matthew wanted to do was find her long lost brother. But somehow she ended up pretending to be a guy who is pretending to be a girl.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

**All The World's A Stage**

_All the world's a stage,_  
_ And all the men and women merely players;_  
_ They have their exits and their entrances,_  
_ And one man in his time plays many parts_

~ William Shakespeare's _As You Like It_, Act 2, Scene 7

**Chapter 1 - **Prologue

Most the girls her age teased her on the first day of school after discovering her name. " What kind of name is Matthew for a girl?" they sneered.

She went home in tears that day.

Her brother also went home unhappy for a different reason.

" I'm not apologizing to them," he scowled, even as his father severely punished him for such disruptive and savage behavior that was unworthy of a gentleman to have and his mother wordlessly cleaned the dirt off his bruised cheeks. " They had no right to laugh at Mattie like that!"

Later that night, as he curled up next to her, Brother fiercely whispered in her ear. " I won't let anyone hurt you, Mattie. Not father. Not mother. No one. "

Matthew gave a quivering sniff and wiped the tears from her eyes. " Thank you."

~.~.~.~

The shattering of glass made Brother wince and clamp his hands around Matthew's ears, ignoring her protests. The fights at night between their parents were steadily getting worse. Before, they had muffled arguments that were hushed up by the walls of their room. But now, their confrontations led to the kitchen, the living room and to the hallways, where listening ears from their bedrooms could easily hear the shouting and threats and the occasional sound of flesh bruising skin.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes from the second cracking of another plate, followed by more screaming and a few cuss words that made him flush. He only released his hold on the squirming Matthew when their parents had taken their bitter quarrel to the dining room, where it was thankfully more smothered by the distance set between them.

Matthew rubbed her ears, which had turned slightly pink under her brother's grip. " How come they keep fighting?" she asked him in a tiny whisper.

" Because that's what all adults do," he shortly replied.

" But not all adults fight. Like Mister Cyprus down the street," she contradicted. " He told me lots of cool stories about the people he sees back home."

He huffed. " All right. Every adult except for Mister Cyprus then."

" And that teacher from Vietnam from school is really nice too. Though she does carry a rice paddle around ..."

" All right. All right. Not _all _adults fight." Brother threw his hands up in the air, scowling at his giggling sister. It was times like these that he felt like things were normal, that their parents never fought, that he and Mattie had the whole world to themselves.

But the peace didn't last for long. The thundering of footsteps on the stairway made Brother clamp over Matthew's ears once again, silencing her objections with a stern look. Then, he heard his mother's hate-filled voice spitting resentful names at their father, who presumably stood at the top of the stairs and also returned a rally of malign and unpleasant words back at her.

" Shut up. Just shut up, you whore!"

" Everybody in the neighborhood heard your damn voice already! What's the point?"

They both collectively flinched at the sharp slap hitting against flesh, their mother's violent shrieks, more swearing, the slamming of doors and the hammering of a fist against wood. Neither of them moved until their father stormed back down the stairs, knocking everything in his path down, even kicking what appeared to be the table, smashing the chairs against walls, finishing with empty, frustrated screaming at no one in particular.

Then, dead silence.

~.~.~.~

Matthew was awoken from her dreams of running in the nearby fields of wheat and barley with her brother, being shaken by their mother.

" Come along, Matthew," she whispered, already tugging a coat over Matthew's flimsy arms. " Quickly and quietly now."

" Are we going somewhere, Mommy?" Matthew yawned, rubbing her eyes as she was shepherded by her mother out of the bed. In her sleepy disorientation, she didn't realize her mother was opening the drawers and haphazardly shoving clothes into a suitcase.

" Yes, darling. We'll be going somewhere faraway and safe," her mother particularly emphasized in a cheerfully sweet voice. Grabbing a few scattered toys, not bothering to decipher whether they belonged to Brother or Matthew, she scooped them up and roughly crammed them into the disagreeing swollen bag.

" B-But what about Brother?" Matthew suddenly realized that her still sleeping brother had remained in bed, as her mother hurriedly ushered her to the door. "Is he coming too?"

Her mother paused briefly before harshly pushing her outside. " No. He won't be."

Eyes widening, she stared up at her mother in innocent disbelief. " How come?" she demanded.

" Because he can't come with us," her mother replied with a sigh, trying to drag her daughter away from this forsaken place. " Now, let's go, Matthew. We mustn't stay here."

" I'm not going without Brother!" Lips drawn up in a scowl, Matthew stood at the porch, arms crossed, glaring up at her mother. At the moment, it appeared that she was the adult and her mother was the child.

_Slap!_

The blow nearly knocked little Matthew to the ground. Her head painfully snapped back and she let out a tearful cry as she staggered back. " Don't ask questions, Matthew!" her mother venomously hissed, her nails suddenly digging deep into Matthew's arm.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she cradled her cheek, too stunned to speak. Who was this stranger that took the place of her quiet mother? Who was it that hit her, when her mother never would have laid a hand on her? Who was this monster that wanted to separate her from Brother?

She began screaming, calling and begging for Brother, trying to run back inside the place she called home. People stared after her and her mother made a few casual remarks and they indifferently went on their merry way, ignoring the choked cries of a little girl.

Finally, her mother clamped a tight hand over her mouth, as she dragged Matthew away and into the busy streets.

~.~.~.~

After ten long, bitter years, Matthew's mother at last succumbed to disease and declining health, nearly taking Matthew with her, just as she had done those fateful years ago.

She laid in bed, breathing harsh, rasped sounds through her throat, blackened and ruined by smoke and alcohol. Pale, yellowed skin stretched across her once pretty face, causing her to resemble nothing more than a skeletal being. Her eyes feverishly darted as she mumbled of forgotten or nonexistent things.

Matthew, now sixteen, sat beside her mother, occasionally dabbing her mother's forehead with a cool cloth. The doctor she paid with the little money she had saved up had told her that her mother wouldn't last the night. And privately, she hoped that her mother would end her misery that night.

They lived a cold, relentless life, traveling from city to city, eating scraps of food wherever they could find it, sleeping on the hard ground of shacks, desperately trying to avoid her mother's debtors. No matter how hard Matthew tried to salvage her money earned from the honest living she had done, somehow, her mother would get a hold of it and ruthlessly squander it in drugs and drink.

As much as she hated and despised her mother, Matthew couldn't leave her mother. There were several times when she had tried to leave, tried to save herself from the dregs of her mother's life, only to come back and reluctantly pick up her drunken mother from the bars and clubs.

A blessing that came in disguise over the years was Matthew's uncanny ability to stay hidden and quiet. The men at the bars barely noticed her night after night when she came to pick up her mother. And for that, she was grateful. She had enough troubles on her plate than to worry about lecherous eyes and hands coming after her.

" Matthew?" her mother whispered, snapping her from her light doze. She leapt to her feet and hovered at her mother's side.

" Yes, mother?" she wearily asked.

" I - I have something of yours. A little thing. Such a little thing." Her mother's voice was frail and ragged. Matthew wasn't even sure if she knew what she was saying. Reaching to the collar of her neck, she brought out a thin, silvery chain, something that Matthew never noticed before. Her mother's neck was always carefully bound with scarves or heavy frills and she never questioned her mother about it before.

She gasped when her mother weakly tugged the chain off her neck, realizing what it was. It was the necklace that had been carelessly left on the bedside table that morning, forgotten and sorely missed by a little girl. It was the necklace that her brother gave her on her birthday, proudly pointing out the miniature picture of the two of them to her (the only picture she ever had of them together) snugged between the inside of the oval-shaped frame.

Immediately, she snatched it out of her mother's trembling hands. Its gleam had long been dulled and some of its edges were scratched and chipped. But the picture was still there and it was real and very much the same necklace. " How did you get this?" she exclaimed, cradling the necklace to her chest.

The next two words appeared to cost her mother an enormous effort. " Your brother."

A hitch rose in her throat. After some time, she managed to speak.

" He found us?"

The implication that her brother was so close, yet too faraway, almost made her collapse in blinding frustration. What was worse was that she had never known. Until now. With a glare that could rival the frostiness of the colder towns up north, she leaned forward, facing her mother, who for the first time in years, looked squarely back at her daughter. " How?" she asked, her voice only slightly shaking.

" Four years ago." A mortified sob nearly choked Matthew. Four years ago and she could have been reunited with her brother. " He found me at the back of our old apartment when I was throwing out the trash. It was at night. You were working."

She gritted her teeth and forced her rapidly beating heart to calm down. If only she didn't work her shift that night. " He wanted to see you," her mother continued listlessly, flatly speaking as if droning to a statue. " He wanted to bring you home with him. He never stopped talking about you."

A hysterical laugh rose in her chest. She was beginning to see the whole picture, the image of her brother and mother arguing and bickering in the night, fighting about her, while she obliviously worked at the restaurant, serving food to several men who suggestively watched her and tried to offer her drinks. She had a grim feeling that she knew what happened next with her brother. " So what did you tell him to drive him away?" she bitterly asked.

" I told him that for years, you spoke of nothing but hate towards him, despising him, wanting him dead, never wanting to see him again. I told him that even a mere mention of him made you cry and fly into a rage. And it frightened him."

Matthew could barely breath. Prickling tears jabbed sharply at the corners of her eyes. How could her brother believe such lies and deceit? And from their mother, nonetheless! Didn't he know that for many nights she cried herself to sleep, only whispering his name in comfort? Didn't he know that she kept thinking about him during the darkest and coldest times to keep herself going, just to return to him?

But another question burned in the back of her name. If her brother truly did loved her, why did he so easily abandoned her without even trying to see her one last time?

" So he just left then?"

" Before he left, he gave me the necklace. Told me to give it to you and you could do whatever you want to it. Keep it. Throw it. Toss it in the fireplace. He didn't care anymore."

Slowly, she shook her head in dismay, biting her lip. How could he have given up without a fight? There was something that nagged in her mind. She knew her own mother long enough to know that there was something that she wasn't telling Matthew. But right now, it didn't matter anymore.

" Why did you do it?" she finally demanded, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. She was sick and tired of this abuse and injustice forced upon her, day after day, lasting for years on end, until Matthew didn't know what was right from wrong anymore. This secret hidden from her was the last straw that snapped something in her. " Why?!" she half-screamed.

" Because - because I love you."

The words stung, just as a slap would. During all those years, Matthew never heard any words of comfort from her mother, nothing but empty ones.

" Do you even mean it?" she contemptuously asked, silently wondering if these words were just as empty.

Her mother didn't answer.

And she never will.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

I decided to keep Matthew's name because "Mattie" could also used for a girl's nickname. And it creates interesting situations later on.

Cyprus (who is known for tourism) and Vietnam (who always carries a rice paddle) are two characters who haven't shown up in the actual strips, though they showed up in sketches and stuff.

There is a reason why I continually didn't name Matthew's brother, leaving you to wonder if her brother is Alfred or someone else ...


	2. The City That Never Sleeps

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_And I was thinking to myself,_  
_ 'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'_  
_ Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way_  
_ There were voices down the corridor,_  
_ I thought I heard them say_  
_ Welcome to the Hotel California_

~ "**Hotel California**" by the Eagles

**Chapter 2 -** The City That Never Sleeps

Tilting her hat to shadow her eyes, Matthew weaved her way through the crowds. With one hand, she gripped her only bag tightly, wary of any pocket-pickers or thieves.

The boy's clothing that she wore, brought from a nearby store, itched and rubbed irritably against her skin. The white shirt was too big for her thin frame, the sleeves past her wrist and flopping uselessly by her thumb. The brown breeches were also billowing and baggy against her legs. She was fortunately to find a band of thick cloth to bind her chest flat, to portray the appearance of a young boy more effectively. Her hair was cut short and her face smeared with dirt and grass to convey the image of running in fields and playing in abandoned factories.

From her experience, people tended to listen to a boy rather than a girl at her age. They are mostly too busy trying to flirt with her or ignore her than to take her seriously. But her disguise worked and no one was able to tell that the sweet, polite lad that they met on the road was actually a girl.

After burying her mother and long months of returning to her old apartment and trying to gather any crumbs of information on her brother from four years ago, Matthew finally found herself standing in the busy city of New York, after an elderly maid had remembered a young man who she had glimpsed of speaking to her mother and having to claim to come from there.

It was a shot in the dark though and Matthew knew there was a slim to none chance that her brother would really be here. It was four years ago after all and the old maid's memory might not have been accurate or she could have mistaken her brother for someone else. Her brother could have easily left the city to seek his fortunes elsewhere. Or he might not have come to New York at all.

She tried hard to remember what her brother looked like. But her memories of those ten years ago was oddly hazy and unclear. And it frustrated her to no end. The picture in the necklace helped a little, but the black and white photo was faded and crinkled and small, making her brother's face appear ambiguous.

It didn't help that she knew that her brother could easily change during those ten years since she had last seen him as a child.

But it was all she had at the moment and she was willing to take that chance.

So here she was, standing in the middle of New York, trying to find a place that would take her in for a cheap price. If she could find a place. Gripping the numerous advertisements she managed to find, Matthew tried her best to make her way through the streets.

New York was everything that she could have ever dreamed of. The crowded, bustling streets filled with people. The meticulous buildings and fancy stores. The exquisite fashion and alluring smell of food wafting towards her. So many sights and places she could wait to see.

Wondering if she should ask someone for help, she glanced upon a particularly refined building, with at least three levels of floors and tinted windows to mask what laid inside. The architecture was stunning, definitely beyond anything that Matthew had ever seen. It clearly was the place that all other places would enviously resent. There at the front of the place, in bold, twisting words was _Le Château du Marianne_.

She would have walked by it without another thought, if a hand didn't suddenly clamped down on her shoulder and a puff of warm breath fluttered behind Matthew's right ear. " Didn't think you'd be here so early in the morning, Mr Jones," a sultry voice murmured, causing her to turn red.

Red painted finger nails gripped her chin, jerking her head to face a girl not much older than her. She was quite a pretty girl, with her blond wavy hair dancing about her cheeks. And at times like these, Matthew was never more fully aware of her own gender! " I'm afraid you're mistaken," she said, quickly stepping back from the girl, blushing. " I'm not - "

" Jones?! He's here!?" A loud, coarse voice erupted from behind Matthew, startling both her and the girl. She barely turned around to face a huge man, who snarled at her while puffing streams of thick smoke from his Cuban cigar at her face.

" We are going to have a long talk, you and I," he growled, jabbing a finger at Matthew's chest.

A faint blush tinted her cheeks as the man had prodded near her bound chest. " But I'm not - "

" You think you're so big, huh? " Matthew let out a yelp as the man roughly knuckled her in the head, his callous hands digging against her skull. "Well, let's go right now, you bastard. Just you and me. Come on!"

" W-wait! Why don't we - ?"

The next hit across her face knocked her down to the ground. Her bag went flying, its contents crashing everywhere. Her hat casually tumbled next to her, as she landed hard on the ground with a cry, scraping the palms of her hands against the grainy dirt.

Cracking his knuckles menacingly, the man advanced towards him, a malicious glint lighting up his face." Not so tough, are you now, eh Jones?" he sneered, raising his fist once more.

Squeaking in alarm and fear, Matthew closed her eyes, bracing herself for the hit. All she could miserably think was how this was only her first day in New York and she already ran into trouble. Was all luck against her?

But the hit never came and she risked opening her eyes a tiny bit. Another man stood in front of her, holding back the first man. He was dressed quite extravagantly in blue and red. From where she was, Matthew was able to detect a whiff of roses and wine from him. " Adelio, you must calm down. This is not Mr Jones," he scolded, wagging a finger at the man as if he were a child. This new man spoke in a French accent, smooth and sophisticated. " Apologize at once to this poor stranger who was caught up in your antics."

A dull flush appeared on Adelio's dark skin. " Sorry," he muttered, dipping his head downwards, before quickly leaving to return back inside. The girl who had stood silently this whole time shot Matthew an unreadable glance before following him in as well.

The man who appeared to be their boss turned to Matthew instead, looking quite concerned. " Are you all right, _mon chéri_?" he asked, offering her a hand. " I apologize on behalf of the rash actions of my employee."

" I-it's all right," she stammered, quickly scrambling to her feet and going off to gather her things. She could feel everyone's eyes on her and her face was burning in embarrassment. She just wanted to leave this place.

Her hand brushed against the Frenchman's hand, who held her hat and a few scattered papers in his hand. " Here you go," he kindly said.

Wondering why she was so flustered at the momentary contact, she took them, carelessly shoving them into her bag before standing up. " Thank you for everything," she mumbled, bobbing her head in gratitude and hastily turned and started sifting through the now scattering crowd.

Suddenly, her wrist was grasped by another hand and she froze, thinking he was trying to do something to her. Gripping her bag tightly, intending to use it as a weapon, Matthew spun around to nearly bump nose to nose with the Frenchman.

To her surprise, he gently turned her hand upwards, to see the bleeding scratches and cuts on her palms. A pale finger reached out and lightly stroked the throbbing spot of red on her cheek where Cuba had hit her. " You can't go anywhere with these dreadful injuries on your hands and pretty face," he declared. " Come. I shall find you a doctor to bandage these for you."

Feeling a headache pinching at the side of her head, Matthew tried to dissuade the man." Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I must insist that - "

Without even bothering to allow her to finish her sentence, the man began dragging her back to the building, cheerfully ignoring her protests. " Please, it is the least I can do," he cut in, smiling cordially at her. " By the way, I'm Monsieur Bonnefoy, the owner of _Le Château du Marianne_," he added, answering her unspoken question.

He steered her inside, merrily humming a tune. And Matthew gasped, eyes widening at the sight of the grand theater stretched before her. It was a magnificent stage, colored in creamy oak and maple, gleaming in the spotlight. Two velvet curtains hung at the sides, rustling and itching to be pulled. The ceiling was decorated in impressive arches and vaults that expanded over the length of the room, divine and majestic. None of the stages that she had seen before in other clubs and bars could ever hope to compare to this.

" It's a beauty, isn't she?" Monsieur Bonnefoy smiled appreciatively. Matthew could only nod her head in agreement.

A few people stared as he continued to pull her along the corridor, but she barely had time to notice them, too busy trying to figure out where Monsieur Bonnefoy was leading her to. " Master Wang! Where are you? I have a patient for you!" he called, pulling Matthew into the kitchen with him.

A young man irritably poked his head from the stack of plates he was washing. " I'm not a doctor-aru," he crossly said, wiping his hands on a towel. " Why do you keep calling me that?"

Nevertheless, Monsieur Bonnefoy pushed Matthew towards the Chinese man. " This poor child unfortunately got caught up in Cuba's anger," he explained patiently. " Adelio had believed he had seen Mr Jones and wanted to return Mr Jones' - ahem, earlier favor to him."

" Ahh, yes. Mr Jones and Adelio never did get along." Master Wang glanced sideways at Matthew. " Though I must say that the resemblance of Mr Jones is uncanny. I myself would have believed it were Mr Jones if you didn't tell me."

" So you will treat ...?" Monsieur Bonnefoy abruptly shot her an apologetic look. " My apologies yet again, _mon chéri_. It appears that I do not know your name."

" Matthew Williams," she told them.

Monsieur Bonnefoy raised a delicate eyebrow. " _Matthieu_, you say? So you are a boy then."

A blossom of pink spread across her cheeks. " W-well, yes!" she stuttered, hopefully that the indignation in her voice sounded authentic enough.

" I could have sworn you were a girl-aru." Master Wang stared at her in disbelief. She ducked her head, trying to avoid his intense gaze as his eyes seemed to examine her a little too closely for her comfort. Then, he shrugged, withdrawing his scrutiny, allowing her to breath at ease. " I suppose I was mistaken."

" So you will treat _Matthieu_ then?" Monsieur Bonnefoy prompted.

Master Wang huffed. " Very well." He took Matthew's wrist and began pulling her as the Frenchman had done to a separate room connected to the kitchen. This room was filled with the rich aroma of medicine and herbs. It smelled exotic and foreign to the usual smoke, alcohol and sweat that Matthew had grown accustomed to.

" Sit," he ordered, which she did. She curiously watched Master Wang as he inspected the palms of her hand and poked her bruising cheek, muttering to himself, before heading off to the huge cabinet near the back of the room.

" The cuts are mostly shallow," Master Wang told her, sitting across from her and unscrewing a jar of thick green paste. He began applying it to her palms, smearing it in circular motions. There was a slight sting where the paste touched the cuts, but soon, she felt barely any itch from it. " And the bruise on your cheek will be gone in a few days if you put this on right now." He handed a pack of ice, gesturing her to press it to her cheek. " Leave it on for a few hours-aru," he said. " And tonight, make sure you gently massage the area. It will help heal it faster."

" Thank you very much." She smiled sweetly at him, causing Master Wang to blink and look away in a moment of bashfulness.

" It was nothing-aru," he muttered.

" What's this? Has Master Wang been seduced by _Matthieu_ already?" Monsieur Bonnefoy appeared, holding a tray of wine and biscuits. His eyes twinkled in jest, causing both of them to splutter indignantly.

" You speak beyond your own wisdom," Master Wang scowled, turning up his nose at the inadequate biscuits (in his opinion).

Monsieur Bonnefoy looked supremely unconcerned. " Is that another one of your proverbs?" he teased, helping himself to a few biscuits. " How are you doing, _mon chéri_?" he asked her. " I hope your injuries were all taken care of."

" Yes, they were," Matthew said, nibbling on some biscuits happily. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since last week. " Thank you very much for your hospitality."

" All to see your pretty smile," he frivolously answered, smirking at her embarrassed expression. _How cute_, he thought to himself. " And judging from your appearance, I would guess that this is your first visit to New York. Am I right?"

She blinked, surprised that he was able to figure it out. Monsieur Bonnefoy chuckled at the look on her face. " Humour me, _mon chéri_," he said good-naturally.

Finally, she nodded, still trying to work out how he knew. " If you don't mind me asking, why is it that you have come here-aru?" Master Wang asked.

Wary, Matthew debated whether she should tell them about her brother. As much as Monsieur Bonnefoy and Master Wang were friendly towards her, she didn't trust them enough to tell the whole truth. " I am looking for a job," she replied evenly.

" Oh?" Monsieur Bonnefoy looked interested. " Then you came to the right place,_ Matthieu_!"

Her eyes brightened immediately. " That would be wonderful if I could get a job here, Monsieur Bonnefoy," she exclaimed.

" However, there is a certain criteria that needs to be met." His blue eyes pierced sharply into her own. " What sort of talents do you have?"

Confident in her abilities, Matthew began listing them. " I can clean, wash and sweep anywhere you would like me to," she rattled off. Practice and hard labor during those ten years had paid off. " I can cook a little, sew clothing and babysit children if necessary. I also did some catering before I - "

" That's not what I meant," Monsieur Bonnefoy interrupted. " I spoke of talents, not the characteristics of a housewife or a servant. I can easily attain those. I am referring to _your_ own talents. What can you offer me, _Matthieu_, to make me hire you?"

Sensing the heat rising at the back of her neck, she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. " I - I'm not sure if I have any," she honestly admitted, furiously blushing, saying all the words in a quick breath. " I mean, I don't think I can sing very well and I never danced before. And I've never played any kind of instrument before - though I would like to learn how to. And I - and I never really thought about having any talents at all ..."

She stopped, feeling very overwhelmed. Her bottom lip trembled and Matthew suddenly realized that she had spent all her time focusing on laboring through an assortment of unkempt jobs to pay off the rent and purchase necessities of living that she never had given a thought to what she truly wanted. She never had any dreams, any focus or real ambition in her life. All she wanted was to find her brother and go home with him. But now the shaft of reality began to open up and as the despair trickled in, she couldn't help but feel unshed tears sting her eyes.

Both Monsieur Bonnefoy and Master Wang were gazing at her as if they were seeing her for the first time. " That ... was perfect!" Monsieur Bonnefoy exclaimed.

" A natural," Master Wang agreed.

Confused, she looked between the two of them. " What do you mean?"

" That act, _mon chéri_, was utterly mesmerizing and beautiful. I have never seen anything like it in my life!" He wrapped an arm to her shoulder. " For a moment, you nearly had me convinced that it was true. You make a very formidable actor. And a very cute one, if I may add." He smiled charmingly at the pink creeping to her cheeks.

" But it wasn't an act!" she squeaked, shrinking considerably under his arm. " I wasn't acting at all - "

" I will inform the rest of the acting troupe that they will have a new addition-aru," Master Wang was talking to Monsieur Bonnefoy, not realizing she had spoken. " And I shall go prepare a room for Matthew. I am certain that we have a few rooms on the second or third floor that can accommodate him."

" Yes, yes. Immediately, if you can." He vaguely waved a hand and Master Wang disappeared through the doors back into the kitchens. " I was quite surprised, I admit," he murmured in her ears, pulling her close. " I didn't think you had it in you to pull out such a magnificent scene. But you did and I am impressed. I am quite curious to see what else you will have in store for us, _mon chéri_."

Torn between hating herself for lying to them and the desperation of needing money and lodging, all Matthew could do was silently nod her head.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

_Le Château du Marianne_ - Marianne's Palace/Castle. Marianne is the national symbol of France for liberty and reason.

This is meant to take place in an alternate world set between the 1930s and 1940s. My history and translation skills aren't the greatest and may not be completely accurate, so if I do make a mistake, just let me know and I'll correct as soon as I can.

The girl who flirted briefly with Matthew before Cuba showed up was meant to be Belgium.

I always loved the idea of making China the chef (because he loves cuisine and he had said food is his priority) and the doctor (because China is known for acupuncture and having many traditional Chinese herbs and medicine).

Also, notice how France and China suspected Canada was a girl originally before finding out "his" real gender, compared to Cuba and Belgium, who mistook her for both a guy and America.


	3. Conversations With A Roommate

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_ To know that one has a secret is to know half the secret itself.  
_

~ Henry Ward Beecher

**Chapter 3** - Conversations With A Roommate**  
**

" _Le Château du Marianne_ has a rather strict schedule," Monsieur Bonnefoy was explaining to Matthew, as they looped out of Master Wang's room and re-entered the kitchen. " We do not tolerate any sort of dawdling. Everyone has a part to do, whether they be chores, practice or helping the others in preparing for the night's performance. Depending on your position and profession, your schedule will vary."

She nodded, doing her best to remember the directions of where they were going.

" Most of the meals will be provided by yourself," he continued, leading her back into the main diner and theater section. " A certain amount of money is specifically added in your salary for that reason. A kitchen, completed with a refrigerator and stove will be available to use in your own room. The only exceptions would be dinners and certain occasions. However, you are always welcome to bring your food in the dining hall. Which is there." He offhandedly pointed to a room where voices were heard and the fresh scent of breakfast was detected.

Now they were walking down a hallway and heading towards the staircase. " Speaking of salaries, you will receive it every one week on Fridays. More will be added or detracted depending on your contribution to _Le Château_ and on the ample flock of guests we receive. A small amount of the salary will also contribute to the rent, which will be split between you and your roommate."

She snapped out of her amazed wonder of gazing at the trunks and clothes valet that were lined up with multitudes of bright, colorful costumes to gape at him. " My roommate?" she stuttered out.

Monsieur Bonnefoy frowned. " Why yes. We don't have enough rooms to lodge all of our performers, so we must share. Didn't I mention that before?"

Her stomach sinking, Matthew quickly shook her head, not really paying attention to his next words. She had never put much thought into sharing a room with someone else. The dread of someone, especially another man, discovering that she was really a girl and getting her kicked out made her feel the thin sheet of sweat down the back of her neck.

" - place two gentlemen or two ladies together. So you won't be roomed with a girl. Though you wouldn't mind that, would you, _Matthieu_?" Monsieur Bonnefoy teased.

She gave a quick, cheery laugh. _I'll worry about this problem later,_ she sternly told herself.

So caught up in her thoughts, that she didn't realize she bumped into a man at the first landing of the stairs. " I'm so sorry!" Embarrassed, Matthew ducked her head in apology. " I didn't mean to run into you."

The man, with messy brown hair and curiously green eyes, merely gazed at her, a small, sleepy "hm?" purring from his lips.

" Good morning, Heracles," Monsieur Bonnefoy cheerfully greeted him. " Seems that you have just met _Matthieu_ here. He will joining your troupe of actors later, after he has settled in."

The man watched her carefully, his gaze piercing and searching, just as Master Wang's had done to her, though it seemed much more intense. " A pleasure, δεσποινίς," he finally said, taking her hand and kissing it.

Heat rushed to her face as Monsieur Bonnefoy spluttered indignantly on what he believed was her behalf. " Heracles! I just told you that _Matthieu_ is a boy! _Un garçon__!_ You can't do that sort of thing to him!"

" ... I see." Heracles barely appeared fazed, though he did release her hand.

Matthew quickly kept a mask of humiliation and indignation. " It's all right, Monsieur Bonnefoy," she said, though the blush on her cheeks was not faked. " It is a common mistake I often get," she quipped innocently. Though she secretly wondered whether Heracles' little action was done on purpose or not.

" Well, if _Matthieu_ says so," Monsieur Bonnefoy huffed. " I suppose that things went well last night," he brusquely asked Heracles, almost out of nowhere.

Heracles' eyes appeared to flick fleetingly in her direction. " Yes."

Feeling utterly baffled at their conversation, Matthew could only stare down at her toes and remain quiet.

" Well, looks like I better get _Matthieu_ to his room." Monsieur Bonnefoy continued smiling airily as if nothing had happened.

Heracles nodded, glancing at her. " Nice meeting you," he murmured to her, before continuing on his way.

" Come along, _Matthieu_. One more floor," Monsieur Bonnefoy urged her.

" What happened last night?" she asked inquisitively as they climbed the stairs.

" Here we are!" he chirped, completely ignoring her question. " The second floor and your new home. Just follow me down here."

Questions about the boggling conversation that just took place between Monsieur Bonnefoy and Heracles burned in her mind, but grudgingly, she held them back. Right now, the dilemma with this new roommate of hers came first. " I won't be troubling my roommate, will I?" she anxiously wondered out loud, as they walked past several rooms.

They reached a door near the end of the hall. From behind it, she could snatches of swearing and grumbles, along with a heavy smell of burnt food. " I certainly hope it wouldn't be a problem. And you have already met him anyways," Monsieur Bonnefoy said as he fumbled with the key, slipping it into the keyhole. " I suppose that first impressions are not always everything, so I hope that both you and him can mend your - "

He barely opened the door halfway when there was the breaking of a plate, blackened eggs and bacon smashing to the floor, as a voice violently shouted out. " Jones!? What are you doing in my room?!"

Matthew gave a shrill sort of squawk, realizing her new roommate was none other than Adelio, who had mistaken her for this Mr Jones and was the one responsible for her bruised cheek and bandages around her palms. Fortunately, before he could leap towards her, Monsieur Bonnefoy stepped in, looking severely displeased.

" Enough of this, Adelio," he said, lips pursed in exasperation. And almost immediately, the burlier man deflated in his outburst and ducked his head in embarrassment once again. " Whatever feud you and Mr Jones have for one another, do not drag _Matthieu_ into it. He is now a member of _Le Château_ and should be treated with respect, not with fists and insults. Do I make myself clear?"

" Yes, sir," Adelio mumbled.

Monsieur Bonnefoy would have continued his lecture if a brown-haired boy didn't run to the doorway, breathing heavily, clutching his chest. " Monsieur! There's trouble at the dining hall! Vash and Roderich had gotten into a fight!" he frantically blurted out.

The Frenchman sighed. " Again? I shall be there shortly, Toris. Apologies, _Matthieu_, I must cut our tour short." He turned regretfully to her. " I hope that these - misfortunes from today won't discourage you from working here."

" None at all," she sincerely said.

" I'll come by later," he promised her. Shooting Adelio one last warning look, Monsieur Bonnefoy left with the boy Toris following at his heels, leaving the two of them alone.

There was a painful stretch of silence between her and Adelio, as they both stared at each other, not knowing what to say or what to do. Adelio was staring at the mess of food and porcelain, while Matthew nervously scratched the back of her head. She was contemplating whether she should introduce herself properly to him, when Adelio bent down, about to pick up the broken jagged fragments of glass without any protection or care for his hands.

" You shouldn't do that!" Matthew quickly snatched his hand before they could pick up the pieces. " If you do that, your fingers will get cut," she scolded him, like a mother would to her child. " Is there a broom or a sweeper I could use?" she asked, glancing around the room.

With a careless shrug, Adelio jerked a thumb to the corner of the room, which Matthew hurried over and picked up a dusty broom and dustpan that gave the appearance that it had never been touched before. Quickly, she swept up the pieces and bits of food into the dustpan before tossing them into the garbage can.

Making a noncommittal sound in his throat, he stood up. " I suppose I should make breakfast for the both of us," Adelio muttered, heading to the fridge.

" It's all right. I can do it for you. After all, I was the one who caused your first breakfast to get ruined." She flashed him a friendly smile, dropping her bag to the side and reaching the fridge before him and opened the fridge, peering inside, taking note of the few scattered eggs in the carton and a soon-to-be empty package of frozen bacon.

" There isn't a lot," Adelio mumbled over her shoulder.

To her, this could make a fine meal on its own. " No, this is just perfect." She beamed happily at him, which made him raise his eyebrows in confusion. Rolling up her sleeves, she picked up the egg carton and package. " Can I borrow your frying pan? And some oil?"

Perplexed and apparently not used to having a roommate who could cook, Adelio pointed out the items for her and stepped back, watching her curiously as Matthew eagerly worked. She beat and stirred the eggs until they were a bright yellow. With her other hand, she pressed the sizzling bacon strips against the frying pan, flipping them when they were ready. Satisfied, she tossed them to an aside plate. Then, focusing her attention back to the batter of eggs, she carefully tipped them into the frying pan and began turning them once the familiar mouthwatering scent of eggs appeared.

" Here you go," Matthew announced as she laid a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him and placed one for herself.

Almost instantly, Adelio began wolfing down the food, his eyes widening in delight. " This is - really - good," he exclaimed between bites. Pleased that she was able to help out her new roommate, she helped herself to her own breakfast with a little more relish.

" My name is Matthew Williams," she introduced herself after a moment.

Adelio filled his mouth, happily chewing before answering. " I knew that. Bonnefoy said it earlier. And I figured you know my name too after hearing Bonnefoy say it so many times." He glowered briefly. " Sorry about what happened this morning. I didn't mean to - normally, I wouldn't act that irrationally. You're not hurt that bad, right?"

" It's nothing that I can't handle." She absently flexed her hands and touched her cheek, pleased to see that they didn't hurt anymore. Master Wang's medicine worked its magic quicker than she had expected.

" Good." He took a gulp out of his drink. " So how did you end up here?"

" I was looking for a job," she lied smoothly, just as she had done earlier in the interview. " I only got hired this morning."

Adelio raised an eyebrow in interest. " Bonnefoy was cutting back from hiring people for some time now. What did you do to convince him?"

The thought of deceiving Monsieur Bonnefoy and Master Wang and now Adelio did make her feel slightly guilty. " I'm an actor," she muttered, feeling the foreign words in her mouth mingling bitterly with her breakfast.

" You must have had some good acting skills to persuade Bonnefoy," he chuckled, not noticing her abashed face. " Did you meet anyone else yet?"

" I met Master Wang. He was the one who fixed up the cuts," she replied. " And I met another actor on my way up here. He was coming out from the first floor. His name was Heracles, if I remembered right."

A scowl flashed Adelio's face, an expression that Matthew wasn't sure whether it was in annoyance or displeasure. It certainly surprised her. Heracles seemed like such a nice person. A little strange and peculiar, but otherwise harmless. " I didn't know you didn't like Heracles," she commented.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. " Huh? No, I never said I didn't like Heracles." His mouth curled unpleasantly at his next words. " It's the first floor I don't like," he finally admitted.

She frowned, racking her brains for any reason that the first floor would appear unattractive, even to a person as tough as Adelio. A sudden thought crossed her mind and her hands flew to her mouth in horror.

" It's not haunted, is it?" Matthew asked in a panicking whisper, her face growing pale at the thought of ghosts and other supernatural creatures roaming the floor, peering through windows, knocking on doors and howling in the middle of nights. She shuddered, very thankful that Monsieur Bonnefoy had not placed her there.

Adelio chuckled in amusement at her horrified grimace, thinking how kids these days had a wild imagination. Absently, Matthew thought it was a nice change compared to the incensed expression he had earlier. " Of course not, _niño_! Don't know where you got that idea."

" If it's not haunted, what goes on at that floor?"

The mirth almost slid immediately off his face. He cleared his throat distinctly. " Just forget about what I just said. It's nothing."

" Then why was Heracles there in the first place?" she pressed, her curiosity tweaked.

" I _said_, just forget about it, all right?" This time, there was a note of finality in his voice that made her shut her mouth.

They ate in silence for some time, before Adelio sighed, placing his fork down. " Look, I just don't think I'm the right person to tell you what goes on at the first floor. It's none of my business. And I'm just warning you that you should be careful that you don't nose around and make it your business either. Some people are sensitive about what goes on there and that would just be a whole heck of a mess for us to clean up afterwards."

Still itching to know, Matthew wisely chose not to pursue the matter. She supposed they would tell her after she began working and after they trusted her a little bit more. " I didn't mean to pry," she apologized.

" _No, para nada_." Adelio waved his hand casually in the air. " No offense taken, _niño._ You're new here and you're bound to have questions."

She carelessly fiddled her last piece of bacon. " It seems I have a lot to learn about," she finally said.

" That wouldn't be a problem," he shrugged. " Bonnefoy hired you himself,_ sí_? Since he did, he would know if you would fit in with us. We're a bunch of misfits anyways, as I like to see it. Though if you were a girl, he would hire you in less than a heartbeat," Adelio added with a wry grin.

Unnerved, Matthew collected herself enough to stutter out, " Why would that affect Monsieur Bonnefoy's decision to hire me?"

" There is a reason why the few waitresses we have get the most attention here." The grin on Adelio's face widened. " And if you've been here as long as me, you would see that most of the clients that come by are men."

Flushing a deep red, she was glad that she had chosen this disguise. She wouldn't have been able to bear the customers' shamelessly flirtatious behavior. " I suppose I was very lucky then," she shrewdly remarked.

Adelio chortled, not realizing the double meaning behind her words. " You're telling me! But I wouldn't put it past Bonnefoy to have hired you partly because of your looks too,_ niño_. A young boy like yourself is bound to attract some attention. Particularly with the female customers."

A faint blush colored her cheeks. Just when she thought she could avoid any attention, her looks managed to backfired on her yet again. She didn't think she looked that attractive. Against the pretty blond girl she saw earlier and the handsome Heracles, even to Monsieur Bonnefoy and Master Wang, she paled greatly in comparison to them.

" You speak too highly of me," Matthew mumbled.

" I speak the truth," Adelio replied, grinning.

" Now you're teasing me."

" All right then,_ niño. _A toast to your terrible, repulsive looks," he snorted, raising his mug towards her. Despite her annoyance, she returned likewise.

Their cups clinked softly together. " Welcome to _Le Château du Marianne_," Adelio heartily said before downing his drink.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

δεσποινίς (Greek) - Miss

_Un garçon_ (French) - A boy

_Niño_ (Spanish) - Kid

_No, para nada_ (Spanish) - No, not at all

_sí _(Spanish) - Yes

Like France and China, notice how Greece casually mistaken Canada as a girl and didn't seem too surprised about it when he was told otherwise. Hmm ...**  
**


	4. Le Château's Newest Recruit

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_Every person is a new door to a different world._

~ tag line from the movie **Six Degrees of Separation**_  
_

**Chapter 4 -** La Château's Newest Recruit**  
**

" And here's the dining hall, where we usually eat for dinner," Adelio pointed out. " Though it has a few more bullet holes than what I remembered," he dryly added.

The dining hall was a cozy sort of place, with a few people mingling here and there, some leaving and some entering. Sleepy "good mornings" and irritable "what's so good about this morning?" floated lazily across the room.

" Vash must have been in a bad mood," he grimaced.

Matthew remembered the name from one of the two people who had started a fight earlier in the morning. " Who is Vash?" she asked.

" He's a security guard, like me. Don't get on his bad side if there is nothing else you don't remember about him."

" Why is that?"

" ... And speak of the devil. Vash!" A stern faced, blond-haired boy just entered into the dining hall, stopping in his tracks when he heard his name being called, allowing Adelio and a trailing Matthew to reach him. " Heard what happened with you and Roderich," Adelio frowned. " What happened?"

Vash glowered. He didn't answer Adelio's question though. The relationship between him and this Roderich could only be added to Matthew's growing list of questions.

He suddenly turned his scowl towards her, who gulped in alarm. " Mr Jones?" The vexed surprise in his voice was apparent. " What are you doing here? _Le Château_ isn't opened yet," he glared at her in annoyance. " I am not in the mood to deal with you. I suggest that you leave now before I lose my patience."

The sight of Vash resting his hand on the gun secured to his belt was almost enough to make Matthew faint in terror. " No, no! This isn't Jones," Adelio hastily explained, stepping between the two of them in case Vash actually acted on his threat. He didn't want a repeat of what happened with him and Matthew. " As much as he does look like that bastard, he isn't Jones. This is Matthew. I'm just showing him around the place."

He shot her an impassive frown that she couldn't quite decide if it was in curiosity or in hostility. " Pleased to meet you, Mister Vash," Matthew quickly said.

Grunting, he curtly crossed his arms. " Call me Vash," he gruffly asserted.

" Y-yes, Vash," she immediately corrected herself. Was it just her or did she saw that the corners of his mouth twitched just a very, very tiny bit upwards?

Adelio didn't seem to notice though. " Just wanted to let you know that Bonnefoy assigned the entrance to me for tonight," he promptly informed Vash. " So it looks like you'll be getting the back exits for tonight." He winced sympathetically. " Good luck looking after that. I remember I caught a few drunken idiots hanging around there the other night. Cause me some grief and got my favourite shirt ruined with their smell and vomit."

The fact barely seemed to faze Vash though. " Doesn't matter," he said coolly. And Matthew knew why. Vash openly carried a weapon that made all the difference and wasn't afraid to flaunt it. No one, not even drunken ones, would dare to approach him.

" Besides, weren't you suppose to help Feliciano getting the groceries today?" Vash nonchalantly pointed out.

Adelio slapped a hand to his face, groaning. " Damn it, I forgot. You'll be fine on your own, Matthew?" he distractedly asked her.

" Don't worry about me. I'll ... " she began, as Adelio hurried away, not even hearing her last sentence. " ... be all right," she finished lamely.

With a tiny nod in her direction, Vash brushed past her without another word. She supposed it would be the closest thing she got to a goodbye from him.

Sighing, she left the dining room and made her way to the practice room. She caught a few people shooting her glances, but they didn't say anything to her and she didn't say anything to them either. Upon reaching the end of the hallway, Matthew had only peered inside empty rooms. But to her surprise, there was one room where there was someone in it.

Raised voices from the room at the end of the hallway argued and squabbled spitefully, growing louder at each passing minute. With a mixture of curiosity and alarm, Matthew creaked open the doors only slightly and peeked her head through the crack. To her surprise, it was the man she had met previously, Heracles and another man alone in the room, their noses nearly touching as they turbulently spat at each other at the height of their argument.

" There's no way a bastard like you is going to get the lead role!" the masked man growled.

" And why should a beard face like you get the role?" Heracles demanded, his usually passive face twisted in a scowl. " You can't even say your lines right."

" As if _you_ could say _your_ lines right."

Soon, they erupted into a fury of fists, kicks and rabid snarls, sending the room into a blustering mayhem with a terrified Matthew hovering by the half-open doorway, not knowing what to do. Finally, gathering her senses, she stepped back and began frantically running to the hallway to find someone who would be able to stop them from fighting. Someone who would know what to do in this situation. Fortunately, there happened to be a someone standing not too far away from the room, apparently not noticing the angry shouts.

" Excuse me!" Matthew called out desperately. The girl turned around, looking surprised as Matthew hurried towards her, recognition dawning on both of their faces.

" Mr Jones! What are you doing - ?"

" T-t-there's a fight!" Matthew interrupted, flailing her arms, her hair falling out of place as if she were a mad woman. The girl immediately relaxed, upon realizing this wasn't Mr Jones. " Down the hall, with Heracles and a masked man!"

" Oh." She almost sounded bored. " Those two are always at it. Everyday, every time they met. Like me and Lars. Though their relationship seems a bit more chaotic than us," she admitted with a chuckle.

Wondering who Lars was, Matthew could only wince as the sounds of chairs and other objects (including what suspiciously sounded like a body) were being violently thrown around in the room, shaking the walls that could barely contain the tremors. " B-but - "

" Don't worry about it," she cut in smoothly. " They'll be fine. Just leave them alone and they'll cool off after a while. They always do." The girl casually waved a hand in the air, looking impeccably unconcerned even as a barrage of swearing and curses ruptured savagely from the room, making Matthew blush at the vulgarity.

" Are you sure?" Matthew timidly asked, flinching at the yowling of a yelp and a triumphant crow behind the doors. " One of them could get seriously hurt ..."

The girl shook her head. " Heracles and Sadiq would never go that far. The worst either of them got was a bloody nose. Their fights only _sound_ worse than it actually is." She grinned at the disbelieving look on Matthew's face. " Trust me. You'll get used to it real fast."

Uncertainly, Matthew glanced back at the room, where the shouts and pounding sounds appeared to have dulled down for the time being. " Are you sure we shouldn't check on - ?"

" For a boy, you certainly worry a lot," the girl commented in amusement, prompting Matthew to snap her mouth shut. In her panic, Matthew had slipped a little too far from her image of a young boy, momentarily forgetting that a boy her age shouldn't be too overly concerned if a fight between two strangers had broke out. In fact, he might have joined in if he felt like spreading more chaos. _I have to be more careful,_ she scolded herself._  
_

The girl then grabbed Matthew's arm, pulling her away from the room, ignoring Matthew's protests. " I better get you out of here before you worry yourself to death," she teased. " Come. I'll give you a tour of the place." Having no choice, Matthew allowed the girl to drag her down the hallway.

" So, what's your name?" she mildly asked. " I would hate to call you 'you' all the time."

" Matthew Williams."

" I'm Bella. At your service," she said, taking Matthew's hand and shaking it. She stopped, raising an eyebrow. " I'm surprised that your hands are quite slender for a boy's. I would have thought they would be more callous."

It was one of those things that Matthew had no control over unfortunately. In her younger years, she was mostly given women's work to do, serving food, sweeping the floors, washing blankets and towels in the dirty hamper, sewing and stitching clothing back to its relative normal state. She was too small. She was too inexperienced. She was too dumb. That's what her employers told her as an excuse. And Matthew had come to accept those as the truth.

" I didn't go out much," she lied.

To her relief, Bella appeared to accept that as the truth. Instead, she was more focused on apologizing for what she did earlier. " I'm sorry about what happened this morning," she said, her expression rueful. " I didn't know that you weren't Mr Jones. Or else I wouldn't have tried anything on you. Even if you weren't Mr Jones, you're still a little bit too young for me."

Matthew wasn't sure whether she should laugh or choke on the breath she just inhaled. The implications of what Bella just said slowly made her wonder exactly what kind of line of work did Belgium do. Especially with this mysterious Mr Jones that everyone kept talking about.

" - heard that Monsieur Bonnefoy hired you this morning," Bella was talking, not realizing Matthew's quiet pondering. " I am rather curious what did you to convince him to let him hire you. Though Bonnefoy has an unhealthy appreciation for beautiful things, whether they're people or objects. And with your looks, you could probably charm him if you put yourself to it." She abruptly paused, shooting Matthew a sly glance. " You didn't try to seduce him, did you?"

" What - no! I would never do that!" Matthew spluttered indignantly. " I'm - I'm a ... _boy_! How could I - like I would do - "

Bella laughed at the hilarious exasperation that bloated Matthew's stuttering face until it was tinged pink. " I was just kidding, Matthew! No need to get worked up about it. I was merely jesting." She grinned until Matthew slowly relaxed and the red in her cheeks faded away a little. " So what did you do then?" she asked curiously.

" I - I acted for Monsieur Bonnefoy," Matthew replied, trying to say the word 'act' with a little more confidence. As if she really was an actor. " And I suppose he liked it," she shrugged carelessly.

" You suppose? Of course, he liked it!" Bella incredulously exclaimed. " Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now. Bonnefoy was cutting back on hiring people for a long time now, despite us needing an extra hand or two. Not to mention that Bonnefoy can be notoriously hard to pleased. As I said before, he appreciates only beautiful things."

Confused, Matthew was about to ask what does that have to do with her, when she heard someone singing in the distance.

_" I never knew the charm of spring ... I never met it face to face ... I never knew my heart could sing ..."_

Her jaw dropped upon hearing the melodious voice singing sweetly just on the other side of the door that Bella had pulled her in front of. " Who - ?" she started, only for Bella to place a finger to her lips, eyes twinkling, before she pushed the door open.

A pretty girl barely older than Bella leaned against the piano, eyes closed, hands clasped to her chest, as she sang with all her heart and soul. Beside her, playing the piano majestically, was a young, dark-haired man, whose fingers expertly flew across the piano keys, striking them to resonate the exact notes that he desired.

Matthew couldn't help but stare, captivated by the perfect harmony and unity of this couple, one in voice and one in music. She never heard such a beautiful thing in her life before and to her confusion, the corners of her eyes prickled with fixed tears building up behind them and her vision flickered briefly out of focus.

To her disappointment, eventually the song had concluded and the music had faded to its last warble.

Without even realizing it, Matthew had brought her hands together, clapping as loud as she could. Both the girl and man looked up to her, slightly taken back that they had an audience. " Mr Jones?" The man stared, with a mixture of exasperation and bewilderment written on his scowl. " I thought you made it clear earlier that you weren't impressed with our music."

Lips twitching involuntarily, Bella appeared rather amused by both Matthew's reaction and the man's. " Elizabeta, Roderich, this is Matthew, our newest member," she introduced, a wry grin still etched on her face.

" Why, thank you," Elizabeta said graciously, her cheeks tinted in embarrassment. Roderich said nothing, still trying to figure out how Mr Jones and Matthew looked so alike.

" It should be me that's saying that to you," Matthew babbled incoherently, her own cheeks matching the color of the other girl's. " It - it was very lovely. Your singing, I mean. And - and the music also!" she quickly added, inclining her head in admiring respect towards the young man, whose stern face appeared pleasantly surprised. " I never seen anyone playing the piano so professionally before."

" If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?" Roderich asked her politely.

So this was the Roderich that Vash had gotten into an argument with earlier this morning. _He doesn't seem so bad_, she mused to herself. " Acting," Matthew said again, this time with a little more ease.

Immediately, Elizabeta's eyes widened in delight. " You're an actor also? That is perfect! We had been bugging Monsieur Bonnefoy to let us take in another actor, but he continually refused, saying we do not have the money and time to train another actor. But with you joining us, our group is now completed."

" Our?" Matthew blinked in confusion.

" Ahh, forgive me. I'm getting ahead of myself." She bobbed her head in apology. " You see Matthew, I am also part of the acting troupe."

Suddenly, a rush of guilt gnawed at Matthew, making her duck her head in shame, that she was deceiving the exquisitely talented Elizabeta, who was both a singer and a real actress. Unlike her.

Elizabeta however mistook her remorse for shyness and anxiety. " There's no need to feel intimidated by us," she kindly said, making Matthew feel worse. " The rest of the actors and actresses are quite friendly and I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting along with them."

" I - I wasn't too worried about that. I met Heracles earlier and he was nice enough." Matthew decided not to mention the masked man, whose appearance seemed to frighten her a little. " It's just - just that I haven't performed on stage before," she mumbled, forced to lie again.

" That isn't a problem," Elizabeta cheerfully professed. " We'll help you and show you the works. In fact, you couldn't have joined at a better time. We had just finished our last performance a few nights ago and we were just thinking of a new play to do. We can give you a smaller part, if you feel comfortable with it."

She could only smile gratefully, burying her guilt-ridden thoughts for now. Matthew barely got her gratitude out when Bella suddenly interrupted.

" Since we still have plenty of time, why don't we have all sing _April in Paris_ again?" she excitedly proposed, her eyes glowing in delight. " It would be another practice for Elizabeta and Roderich, while Matthew and I can practice also."

"You like that song too much," Elizabeta teased.

" It doesn't matter to me," Roderich calmly said, heading back to the piano and bringing out the music sheets once again.

Matthew was the only one who had doubts about that, despite (privately) liking the song very much. " I don't know. I never sang before ..."

" Come on. It'll be fun!" Bella excitedly prattled, already pulling two chairs over to the piano. " Here, I'll even write down the lyrics for you."

" But I - "

" Why don't you sit there on the piano chair, next to Roderich?" Elizabeta suggested deviously, nudging Matthew towards him.

Without much choice, she did as she was told, sitting stiffly next to Roderich, feeling rather out of place.

On the other hand, Elizabeta didn't think so. " Perfect!" she gushed, pleased. She tilted her head, gazing rapturously at Matthew and Roderich, her eyes shining in happiness. " If only I had my camera," she wistfully sighed.

Matthew had no idea what was going on, though Bella did roll her eyes. " Just put up with it," she muttered at the corner of her mouth. " She does this all the time."

About to ask what Elizabeta does all the time, she was interrupted when Roderich cleared his throat. " Shall I start the practice?" he asked, with a note of irritation hidden in his otherwise patient voice.

" Of course." Elizabeta smiled sweetly at him, before finding her seat next to Bella and directly across from Matthew, who didn't notice that there was a reason why Elizabeta had chosen that particular spot where she could admire the two gentlemen (or so she thought) sitting very closely to each other, without either of them noticing.

More concerned about her first time singing in a company, especially after hearing the marvelous practice performance from Elizabeta, Matthew was feeling very nervous indeed. She gripped the paper that Belgium had handed her seconds ago, where the lyrics were hastily scrawled across the sheet.

The music began and Matthew found herself struggling to match the beat of the song with the lyrics. She fumbled and faltered over the words often. By the end of the first sequence, she had shrunk in her seat, too embarrassed to look at the others.

" It was only your first time," Elizabeta offered sympathetically.

" Try to go more slowly. Don't rush the words," Bella suggested.

" Sit up straighter," Roderich sternly said. " Don't slouch. Keep your eyes forward. Your voice won't be able to articulate at its full potential if you keep looking at the floor."

Fortunately, the second and third and fourth times were a little bit better. Though she didn't stumble over the words as much anymore, Matthew still couldn't get the right correspondence with the music and her awkward voice still clashed clumsily with Roderich's flawless rendition.

" It wasn't bad for your first time," Bella tried to cheer her up. " You just need some practice."

" I agree. And I don't think I have heard a more lovely singing trio," Monsieur Bonnefoy brightly announced his presence as he walked into the room. " Though I am quite surprised to hear that _Matthieu_ has such a feminine voice," he smiled as Matthew blushed.

Elizabeta chuckled. " You shouldn't tease the poor boy. He is young after all. Perhaps his voice has not matured yet. Give it a few more years."

Though Matthew knew the real answer to why her voice would stay as soft and effeminate as it was, even with the passing of a few years.

Smiling, Monsieur Bonnefoy then turned to her. " _Mattheiu_, I have sent up some clothes up for you," he told her. " Despite only being hired this morning, your shift will start tonight at five to midnight. Come down a little bit earlier so we can help get you set up with our catering system."

" I understood," she obediently nodded. There was a shiver of excitement brimming in her. Her first day at _Le Château_ and she was determined to do it right.

After all, what could possibly happen?

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

I am terrible at incorporating the proper time period slang, so I'll be doing only a little of that, though I will be careful not to use any slang from the present time. If I do, just let me know and I'll fix it.

Despite rarely appearing in the actual strips, Belgium is said to have a mature and cheerful personality, acting like a cool big sister, which I hoped I got right. Also, Lars is meant to be Holland (Netherlands), where the two of them argue and fight a lot, like the two siblings that they are. I saw the name Lars used for Holland in a few stories before and it just stuck with me.

_"April in Paris"_ was a song written in 1932 for the Broadway musical, **Walk A Little Faster**.

I don't know why, but I had always imagined Hungary having a nice singing voice, just to match with Austria's playing of the piano.


	5. Down The Rabbit Hole

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well._

~ Lewis Carroll, **Alice In Wonderland**_, _Chapter 1

**Chapter 5 - **Down The Rabbit Hole

Master Wang fiddled absently with the cooking wok in his hands. He kept glancing towards the entrance, where some people filtered through, though he remained unnoticed, hidden behind the corner of the wall. " How many guests so far-aru?" he asked the short blond haired girl with a yellow band fixed on top of her hair next to him.

" Twenty. Maybe a little more," she replied, shifting nervously, her huge chest moving with her.

" I suppose it's better than what we could have hoped for," he shrugged, hoping to conceal his disappointment to the girl, who glanced worriedly at him. " Twenty guests for this time isn't bad-aru. As Monsieur Bonnefoy said before, whether we have one guest or a hundred, we will still continue with our schedule and - " He stopped as he spotted Matthew coming down the stairs.

" I'm ready for my duties," she announced.

He raised an eyebrow at her appearance and a small smile quirked about his face. " You combed your hair back-aru," Master Wang remarked in amusement.

She pouted unhappily. If it was her choice, she would have gone with her hair just the way it was. But unfortunately for her, she had run into Roderich, dressed in an aristocratic suit and looking quite regal, who had just came out from his room. He took one look at her tousled hair and disheveled cheeks before he then dragged her back into his room to be cleaned up. He clucked his tongue in disapproval as he made her sit and began bringing out a comb and a washcloth.

" This is not the appearance a young gentleman should display," he sternly scolded her, as he carefully went through her tangled curls, ignoring her yelps, tugging rather painfully at any stubborn knots and snags. Then, he thoroughly scrubbed and washed her cheeks, erasing any traces of sweat or dirt on her face, until her cheeks were sore and painted pink from the harsh cleansing that they were forced to undergo.

Now, her hair was pulled away from her face, revealing her luminous, violet eyes behind her glasses. The smudges were wiped clean and to their surprise, they could see that Matthew had smooth, fair skin all along underneath all the grime. Gone were the baggy, unfitting clothes that only illustrated the rugged, uncultivated street boy. She was dressed in a black vest over a crisp white shirt and black pants, making her appear very formal and gentleman-like indeed.

" Roderich did it for me," she muttered, itching to touch her hair, even just to fix it a little to regain her former, more tolerable look. But she knew that if she did, Roderich would have her head for even putting a single hair out of place. " I feel stupid," she mumbled. The cleanliness of the clothes made her feel uncomfortable as she fidget and squirmed restlessly. " Are these clothes suppose to feel this tight?" she complained, tugging at the vest.

" You look fine," the girl said, smiling kindly at Matthew. " And you'll get used to the clothes. Wash them a few times and they'll fit soon enough."

Pushing her discontent about her appearance aside for the moment, she smiled at the girl who she had seen a few times in the hallway but never spoken to before. " I don't think we've met before. I'm Matthew Williams." She offered a hand towards her.

" Please call me Katyusha," the girl introduced, taking her hand.

Just then, Monsieur appeared, dressed in a flamboyant blue and red, seemingly glowing with the excitement of the night. " Why are you all standing here? Our guests are waiting for - ahh, _Matthieu_! You look delightfully_ mignon_!" he twittered, like a doting parent. She could almost see the heart shaped twinkles sparkling above his head as he beamed delightedly at her.

" Thank you, Monsieur Bonnefoy."

" Now about the catering system, a certain set of tables will be your responsibility," Monsieur Bonnefoy was saying, as he dragged her away from Katyusha and Master Wang and to the main diner area, where customers were already beginning to mingle and finding their ways to their seats. He pointed to a cluster of tables in the corner. " Right there. You shall serve those honorable guests and meet whatever demands they need, within reason, of course. You know where the kitchens are and just place the orders on the top counter where the chefs could see it."

She nodded. Her experiences from attending people from her previous jobs are to certainly pay off now.

" Don't hesitate to ask for help. Remember, it is only your first day," Monsieur Bonnefoy smiled, pushing her lightly towards the tables. " Now go on."

With a bit of confidence, Matthew went off towards her first customer. But before she could reach him, he already saw her and with stunned exasperation, he leaped to his feet, his chair falling with a clatter behind him.

" Jones, you bastard! What the hell are you doing here?!" he snarled, just as Adelio had done.

With a slight annoyance at being mistaken for this Mr Jones who she hadn't even met yet, Matthew raised her hands in peace. " I'm not this Mr Jones," she patiently explained. " I'm Matthew and I am simply your waiter for the evening."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, squinting and inspecting her carefully, his bushy eyebrows fluttering with the movement. It took most of her power not to giggle at him. That really would not look professional. " How do I know you're really not Mr Jones?" he demanded.

She fought hard not to sigh. Was this Mr Jones really that unpleasant and appalling towards others? " I assure you, sir, that this is my first time meeting you and my first day working here," she quietly attested. " If you ask Monsieur Bonnefoy or anyone else at_ Le Château_, I am confident that you will find that my words are true."

For some time, the man surveyed her, this time with interest and not skepticism. " Jones would not have referred me as 'sir'," he finally said. " And he certainly wouldn't have spoken politely to me as you had done. My apologies." He bowed remorsefully towards her. " Please forgive my irrational behavior. This Jones can be ... quite a troublesome fellow."

" So it would seem, as the few people I came across would also agree," Matthew wryly said.

He smiled. Now that he had calmed down, she could see that he was wearing a formal suit with a clean white shirt underneath, fixed with a necktie. His tone overall had reformed and was much more well-mannered and friendly. " What's your name again, lad?"

" Matthew Williams."

" Matthew, hm?" The man repeated her name carefully, as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, he smiled. " That's a nice name. It fits you well."

Taken back, she could feel a rise of heat in her cheeks. During her childhood, most people scoffed and teased her about her name. To hear that her name was made her soar in gratification. But then again, if the man had known that she was really a girl, perhaps he might not have had said the same thing. " Thank you, sir." She quickly cleared her throat. " Is there anything I can get you?"

" A cup of tea would be sufficient. And a plate of the roast beef with mashed potatoes and vegetables, served with gravy and with the treacle tart for dessert," he recited, without even looking at the menu, sounding almost bored.

She looked up at him from scribbling in the notepad, half amused. The man shrugged. " If you come here as often as I have, you would too," he pointed out smugly.

" I'll go get you your tea," Matthew said, finding that it was all she could say at the moment, before she left, heading towards to the kitchen, where she met with Katyusha again.

" I was wondering who is that man over there at table eleven?" she whispered, jerking her head slightly towards his direction, while pretending to clean her glasses.

Katyusha sneaked a peek towards him, casually reading the menu in front of her nose, before smiling in recognition. " Ahh, that's Mr Kirkland. He's a regular here. Comes almost everyday. Lucky that you got him. He's a real gentleman and he always tips the waitresses nicely."

" Though he was upset when he thought I was Mr Jones," Matthew remarked.

" Was he?" The corners of Katyusha's mouth curled slightly. " It's not a surprise. Mr Kirkland and Mr Jones do have a notorious history together."

Matthew probably would have asked who Mr Jones exactly was and what kind of history he shared with Mr Kirkland, if a pretty yet scowling girl appeared right next to her. " My брат requests your presence at his table," she announced, glaring poisonously at her.

" Of course," she said, a bit taken back at the hosility that the girl expressed towards her, wondering what she had done to incite such wrath and who or what a брат was. " I'll be there in a - "

" No." The girl's frown seemed to deepen. " My брат requests that you meet with him _now_." Just like that, she grabbed Matthew's wrist and began dragging her away.

Before she could even protest, Katyusha quickly shot her a pleading look. " It's all right. She won't do anything to you," she assured Matthew. Though the nervous look on her face didn't convince Matthew much. Seconds later, she found herself dropped into a chair in front of a very tall and intimidating man, dressed in thick, heavy coat and scarf, though the weather outside was mild and balmy.

" So this is the официант who was speaking to Sister," he remarked in a childish, innocent voice. Yet there was slight hidden tone of cruelty and malice underneath all the sweetness and innocence. He gazed at Matthew thoughtfully, with Natalia standing right behind her, a dark looming figure breathing down the back of her neck.

She frankly had no idea what a официант was and how that applied to her. All she knew was that she had spoken to his sister (she had no clue who that was) and was perhaps about to pay for it, seeing how he probably thought she was some guy trying to pick up his sister. " I - I'm sorry if I spoke to your sister," she politely said. " I didn't mean to offend you in any way."

" Oh?" He tilted his head curiously like a child. " I am not offended at all." He smiled at her and if she didn't know better, it reminded her of a snake about to eat its prey. " Just make sure that _you don't talk to her ever again, Да_?" he finished in a frightfully chilling and lethal voice, completed with his ever present smile.

Terrified to the point Matthew could barely breath, she nodded her head.

" Good." His voice returned back to its usual child-like state. " Here is the receipt." He took her hand in his gloved, unyielding hand, nearly swallowing her whole hand if he wanted to. He pressed the money into her palm and she feared if he squeezed her fingers any stronger, they might break. " Have a good evening, официант."

Unable to find her voice, Matthew bowed her head towards him again. She gripped his money with trembling fingers before she turned and somehow managed to coax her wobbly legs back towards the cash register.

" You look like you've seen a ghost," Mr Kirkland commented in concern, as she passed by his table.

Hurriedly wiping the cold sweat off her face, she managed to stretch a stiff smile. " Maybe I did," she half-heartedly joked.

He glanced back at the Russian man and the girl, both whom just got up and left, leaving a slight chill when they opened the doors. " Oh, him. No wonder," he snorted. " That's Mr Braginski and Miss Arlovskaya, his subordinate. There were rumors going around that he's a hit man, one of the top in the world," he said in a hushed whisper. " People on his list just vanish and those that get in his way also vanish."

She gulped. What on earth did she do to invoke his wrath?

" Like most people, you probably didn't do anything," Mr Kirkland shrugged. " It's been said that Mr Braginkski's not really in the right mind anyways. But you didn't hear that from me," he added, with a slight wink.

Feeling slightly better, this time Matthew smiled a real smile towards him. As Katyusha had said, Mr Kirkland was a gentleman.

Then, to her horror, she had forgotten completely about his tea. " I'll get your drink right away, sir!" she stammered, bowing and hurrying away, hastily brushing aside her musings without a further thought.

Still carrying Mr Braginski's money in her hand, she flitted past the tables towards the cash register. No sooner did she placed the money there, Katyusha found her, looking fraught with panic. " Matthew! Are you hurt?" she babbled frantically, waving her arms wildly. " They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

" No, of course not," she replied, trying to assure the waitress. " They just talked to me, that's all."

She thought it would be better if Katyusha didn't know about Mr Braginski's threat. After all, she looked so worried that Matthew knew that she would only become more distressed if she found out and Matthew couldn't bring herself to tell her.

" Thank goodness." Katyusha clutched her ample chest in relief. " I didn't expect that they would come after you. My brother can be too overprotective at times ..."

" Your brother?" The stunned realization hit Matthew hard. She stared, jaw dropping. " You mean, _you're_ Mr Braginski's sister?"

"_ Да,_" she replied apologetically. Now that she thought about it, Katyusha's accent was almost the same as Mr Braginski and Miss Arlovskaya. " I'm afraid I wasn't able to escape entirely from home," she said with a bitter sigh.

Something about her tone made Matthew frown. " What do you mean - ?"

" Shouldn't you two be working?" Roderich interrupted their conversation, appearing behind them, looking severe and foreboding.

And both of them quickly scattered to their separate destinations, leaving Matthew's question hanging in the air.

~.~.~.~

" Elizabeta is sick?!"

" I'm afraid she had to retire for the evening," Roderich calmly announced.

" But she was fine earlier!" Monsieur Bonnefoy frantically wailed, wringing his hands. " She came down to serve some of the guest. I saw her!"

" She did complained of a headache before dinner. It appeared to have gotten worse afterwards," he offered as an explanation.

Monsieur Bonnefoy anxiously bit the skin underneath his nail. They had advertised Elizabeta's performance greatly for the past few days and throughout the night, he heard many customers eagerly awaiting to see it. With this dwindling crowd, he could not afford to change the performance out of fear that many customers would leave in protest.

Even if Elizabeta didn't perform, many of them enjoyed the song _April in Paris_ and to not have it sung would be almost an insult to them. Bella would have been the next best choice to perform, since she knew the song like the back of her hand. But she was away for business purposes and could not be called back in time. And there was no one else who would know the lyrics to _April in Paris_ well enough. Except -

" _Matthieu_!" he abruptly shouted, just as she had returned to the kitchen, balancing two trays of finished plates on each hand.

" Yes, Monsieur?" Matthew had barely just set the trays down, wiping her hands on her apron, before he ran towards her like a madman, skidding to a stop just in front of the alarmed Matthew and grabbed her shoulders.

" How comfortable are you with _April in Paris_?" Monsieur Bonnefoy breathlessly asked her.

" Not very much," she stammered, taken back by his frantic behavior. " I still can't follow the tune and I need more practice with - "

" But you do know the lyrics?" he interrupted, gazing at her intently.

" Well, yes, but - "

" And you know the beat of the song?"

" Yes, but as I said before - "

" Then, you'll be performing _April in Paris_ tonight," he declared, slapping a hand to her back in what he believed was assurance.

Jaw dropping in disbelief, she stared at him incredulously. " Tonight?" she squeaked.

" Yes, tonight," he impatiently said. " We have no choice. Elizabeta had fallen ill and Bella is away. And no one else knows the song well enough to perform it."

The choking thought of her performing on stage left Matthew frozen with terror and fright. " I - I - I can't!" she stammered. " I will only make a fool of myself up there and - and to sing in front of all those people would be - "

" But _Matthieu_, you are the only one who could do it," Monsieur Bonnefoy cut in, gripping her shoulders again and staring intensely into her eyes. So close were they that she could see the faint spirals of violet hidden in his brilliantly blue orbs. _Why do I suddenly feel so embarrassed?_ she thought in discomfort, her cheeks pink.

" And do not belittle yourself. I have confidence in you. However, we can't send you off looking like that," he mused to himself, glancing at Matthew.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, a smile brimming out of his face. " Come with me." With that said, Monsieur Bonnefoy snatched her wrist (Matthew was suspecting that this was something that everyone had adapted to when they wanted to drag her around like a ragged doll) and pulled her away from the kitchen and back into the hallway. Past the main diner, he brought her to one of the rooms near the practice rooms where she had glimpsed at Heracles' fight earlier.

" Feliks! Where are you?" he called out, barging right into the room without even bothering to knock.

A young man spun around from the mirror, his light blond hair swishing in the motion and his eyes narrowed in impatience. " What do you want?" he grumbled, pulling the pink barrettes from his hair, a bit embarrassed that he was caught.

" I have a new project for you," Monsieur Bonnefoy proclaimed, as he pushed Matthew towards him.

Almost immediately, his eyes went round like coins and a cheerful smile appeared on his face. " I see." He studied Matthew thoroughly, walking around her a few times, a lone finger tapping against his nose in concentration. " This should be like a piece of cake." He smirked. " And I think I have the perfect outfit for him."

Gulping and wondering what her fate would be with this stranger, Matthew could only stand and watch helplessly as he shoved her into one of the changing rooms and prepared to do whatever he was going to do to her.

~.~.~.~

" To my deepest regret, Miss Elizabeta will not be able to perform tonight due to illness," Monsieur Bonnefoy announced to the crowd, pausing briefly as they booed and hollered angrily.

He coughed and waited until the ruckus died down. " However," he continued. " We will have our newest singer perform in place of Elizabeta, also singing _April in Paris_. Please give it up for the lovely _Matthieu_!"

Some still scowled and expressed their annoyance rather vocally, crossing their arms and stubbornly insisting that this Matthew, who he was, would be jeered until he was off the stage and Elizabeta (or some other girl) would come. They had waited long enough and to be disappointed like this was simply unacceptable in their standards. A few already began leaving their seats in protest.

Monsieur Bonnefoy continued cheerfully smiling, though he frequently shot impatient, irritated glances at the left side of the stage where Matthew was suppose to be entering from. What was taking the boy so long? Feliks had already declared Matthew fit for the performance, though Monsieur Bonnefoy had yet to see Matthew himself.

He cleared his throat. " Presenting _Matthieu_!" he announced again, a little more louder. Seconds lengthened and still no one appeared on stage. Growing fiercely exasperated, he had half a mind to head to the back of the stage to drag Matthew out into the open himself, just as a scramble of hissing voices argued audibly behind the curtain.

" I'm not going out like this. I look like an idiot!"

" Don't be silly. You look like totally fabulous. Now get out there."

" W-wait! I - "

With a grunt, Feliks managed to push Matthew onto the stage, who nearly stumbled over and grabbed herself just in time before she fell over, trembling as she stood shakily in the uncomfortable high heels she was made to wear. Blushing red and glaring at Feliks, who remained hidden by the curtains and putting up an encouraging thumbs up in her direction, all she could do was turn and face the audience.

She had been forced to a long, brilliant red dress that flowed evenly down her waist and ending at the edge of her ankles. To her embarrassment, her back was revealed, ending at her waist, causing her to shiver, as she didn't have sleeves either for protection against the cold. To her greater embarrassment, the neckline of the dress was much lower than she would have liked, unveiling a shadow of her cleavage after she was much obliged to secretly unravel the cloth binding her chest flat. Her hair was further tormented, her previously minimal curls transformed into complicated waves to her neck. Under the thick layers of makeup, her eyelashes were heavy and dipped in black, for the sole purpose of defining the mysterious amethyst of her eyes ("Take off those glasses! You'll look better without them!"). White powder clung to her cheeks with a demanding oppression and she could barely breath through the massive amounts of red lipstick applied to her lips.

But then again, if Matthew was given the time to look in a mirror, she would have realized that she looked quite pretty. And the audience certainly agreed.

Some of the men who had earlier complained immediately began to whistle and hoot, grinning that at last _Le Château_ had a new performer. A lovely female one at that too. Others, like Mr Kirkland, who recognized Matthew who had served them earlier, promptly choked on their drinks, baffled and stunned as they tried to comprehend how the polite, young waiter suddenly became very pretty and whether if he was into cross-dressing or if "he" was a girl in the first place.

Even Monsieur Bonnefoy who had thought of Matthew as 'cute' when he first laid eyes on him was rather speechless at Matthew's unexpected transformation. _It appears that the little duckling became a swan_, he mused to himself. He couldn't resist trailing his eyes towards the slender, well-refined figure and absently tried not to feel too guilty about it.

Wondering why the guests were suddenly making a racket, Adelio peered from the entrance, only to see Matthew, and his jaw comically slacked in disbelief. He stood there, dumbfounded for a few minutes before shaking his head, rubbing his eyes and giving himself a couple slaps to the face to clear himself. It was impossible and unthinkable that - no, even as he gazed at the "girl" on stage, it was evident that it was clearly Matthew and not a trick to his eyes. A rush of heat flooded into his cheeks and he wondered why on earth was he feeling flustered all of a sudden.

Back on stage, Matthew froze on the spot, completely terrified out of her wits from the lights and appearing on stage for the first time in her life, swinging her head back and forth from the calm Roderich who had already made his way to the piano, to Monsieur Bonnefoy who appeared to be dazed, to the audience who cheered her on with a helpless look on her face, forgetting what she should be doing in the first place.

Perhaps the only one who might not be overly taken by Matthew, Roderich cleared his throat from his placement in front of the piano, shooting her a_ calm-down-you're-making-a-scene_ look. " Sit down," he impatiently said, indicating to the spot next to him. She quickly obeyed, hurrying over to sit beside him, turning even redder at the light chuckles that came from the audience.

She never felt more foolish in her life, growing redder by the minute and gripping the microphone so hard that it shook. In another situation, she might have appreciated how the dress fit snugly around her curves and how fashionable it was for girls like her to wear.

" Just relax," Roderich murmured in her ear, nearly giving her a heart attack at how close he was to her exposed back. Somehow, sitting next to him now seemed a hundred times worse than it did at practice.

Then, Roderich began to play and she slowly forgot about her dilemma. There was no audience. There was no fact that she was pretending to be a boy in a girl's clothing or the fact she was searching for her brother.

It was just her and the music and the song.

" _Till April in Paris. Chestnuts in blossom. Holidays tables under the trees. April in Paris. This is a feeling. That no one can reprise ... Till April in Paris. Whom can I run to? What have you done to my heart?_"

She ended the refrain, soft and slow, trying to sing it as Elizabeta had done. Opening the eyes she was not aware she had closed in the first place, Matthew was stunned to see that the audience cheered and applauded her with enthusiasm. From where she was, she could see that even Mr Kirkland was politely clapping.

A warmth of delight spread from her head to her toes. Even if the world came crashing down around her at that very instance, not even that could stop the wide, exuberant smile on her face.

Roderich was already standing before her, offering a hand. " You did good," he said with a slight smile.

Blushing a deeper red, she never realized how nice Roderich could look if he smiled a little more often. She took his hand and together, they walked off the stage. With a quick glance, Matthew stole a peek at the crowd, who were now beginning to leave_ Le Château_ for the night and chattering excitedly about her performance. _Her_ performance.

" _Tu as été superbe_!" Monsieur Bonnefoy squealed, immediately enveloping his arms around her as soon as she made it to the curtains, swinging her around in joyful euphoria. " With some practice, you will be an excellent singer in no time!"

She turned red as his arms wrapped around a little too close to her now revealed chest. " You really think so?" she shyly asked, as she subtly slipped out of his grip.

" Of course, _mon chéri_. And I have never been wrong about my predictions." He beamed happily at her, not realizing that he no longer held Matthew. " But why didn't you tell me that you could sing also?"

" Because I've never done it before," she truthfully said.

" Now, you're being modest," Monsieur Bonnefoy smiled, patting her affectionately on the head.

She blinked, not quite understanding why he had offered such a gesture for her. Over the years, she had received slaps across her cheeks to curb her stubborn defiance. Knuckles had bruised her head, digging against her skull, to make her shut her stuttering mouth. Her ears often had became reddened from being yanked and twisted for her disobedience and clumsiness.

The only person who had treated her with such gentleness was her brother. One of the most memorable time was when she had brought home a picture of her and him that she had cobbled together in school with splashes of blue, red, pink and yellow, messily over the white sheet. She had pointed out their house, the nonexistant trees and playground beside them and the zigzags of clouds above them.

And right in the center of her masterpiece was her and her brother. Not even their mother and father were drawn, as for Matthew, the roles of her mother and father belonged solely to her brother alone. They were holding hands, smiling wide lopsided smiles, so happy and inseparable.

Unlike the harsh reality that they now faced.

" I love you, Mattie," was what he told her, as he graciously accepted her picture and pinned it up in their room next to the mirror on top of the drawer, so when he woke up, he could see it every morning.

No one else except her brother had ever made her feel so cherished and happy. Could that possibly suggest that Monsieur Bonnefoy was trying to mean the same thing as her brother?

" Bonnefoy! Some guests are requesting an audience with you-aru." Master Wang interrupted her thoughts, as he came out of the kitchen.

His eyes twinkled with something that Matthew couldn't identify. " Master Wang, tell our guests that I will meet with them shortly. _Matthieu_, I think you deserve to retire early for the night. Rest up because tomorrow will be another busy day," he told her with another smile.

He left her feeling very confused and wondering why she suddenly thought of her brother in the first place.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

_Mignon _(French) - Cute

брат (Russian) - Brother

официант (Russian) - Waiter

Да (Russian) - Yes

_Tu__ as été __ superbe_ (French) - You were superb

The reason why I chose "Down The Rabbit Hole", inspired by **_Alice In Wonderland_**, for the chapter title is because this chapter is what really initiates Matthew's journey. Not to mention this was her first performance and the first time she was forced to wear a dress and had to "pretend" to be a girl.

Despite Canada and Ukraine never met in the official comics, in real life they share a close and productive relationship with each other. Canada has the third largest Ukrainian population after Russia and Ukraine itself.

England's dinner is known as the "Sunday Roast", the most typical English cooking.

And Ivan is very protective over his sister, to the point that any guy even talking to her, feels like a threat to him. Poor Matthew.

Also, after meeting a few of the characters, notice how Matthew is the only one who is given a full name, in which Williams may or may not be her last name.

**Edited:** I decided to change Russia, Belarus, Cuba and Belgium's names mostly for the sole purpose of drama. Mr Braginski makes him sound a lot more mysterious and dangerous than just "Ivan". And after thinking for some time, Belgium's name didn't really stick, so I changed it to "Bella", which means beautiful. And Cuba, well, it wasn't fair he should get left out. And I liked the name Adelio, which is a Cuban name for what I gathered from Google.


	6. The Morning After

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_Acting is all about honesty. If you can fake that, you've got it made._

~ George Burns_  
_

**Chapter 6** - The Morning After**  
**

When Matthew woke up the next morning, she remained there, lying on her bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, trying to remember if last night really did happen.

Coming to New York city.

Meeting Monsieur Bonnefoy.

Being hired into_ Le Château du Marianne_.

Meeting Adelio, Heracles, Bella, Elizabeta, Roderich and Katyusha.

Serving Mr Kirkland.

Being threatened by Mr Braginski.

Forced to pretend to be a girl while pretending to be a boy.

Performing in front of a live audience.

She could still feel the sticky remains of sweat on her palms and scraping against her forehead. Last night truly did happen.

After returning the dress to Feliks (" I have like totally more dresses for you to try on. Come by later tomorrow, okay?"), she somehow managed to stagger up the stairs, found her way back into her room, crawl up the ladder into the top part of the bunk bed she was sharing with Cuba and promptly collapsed with her work clothes still on.

So here she was, still a little disoriented and yawning. The bed was much more comfortable than the lumpy couches and hard floors she was normally used to. And if she could, Matthew would have fallen right back down and laid there all morning. But her stomach made her priorities straight and Matthew unfortunately had to get up.

A loud grunting snore startled her from below. Peering down from the wooden side rails, she could see that Adelio was sprawled across his bed, tousled with his blankets, still clothed, just like she had done. He looked so peaceful that Matthew would hate to disturb him. Quietly, she climbed down the ladder, extra careful not to make a single sound, before she tiptoed towards the refrigerator.

To her dismay, there was no food to be found there, not even a carton of milk. They must have eaten it all yesterday morning without them realizing it. And in the excitement of having a new roommate and the bustling activities of last night, Adelio must have forgotten to buy more. With a dejected sigh, Matthew supposed she would have to go to the kitchen to scavenge for food, seeing how she didn't earn any money yet and didn't carry any of it with her. If she was lucky, perhaps Master Wang might take pity on her and give her something.

Taking off the black vest and quickly changing into a casual, more comfortable shirt, she made sure the darkness of the room covered her well, even as she adjusted the band of cloth around her chest, tightening it just to be safe. Adelio mumbled something in his sleep as she cracked open the door, and rolled over to the other side of his bed, continuing to snore, blissfully unaware as his roommate slipped out of the room.

It was still rather early in the morning, to Matthew's surprise. Pale pillars of sunlight seeped in, flickering behind the floating clouds, not strong enough to break completely through them.

As she walked down the stairs, as soon as she reached the first landing, she glanced cautiously at the hallway leading into the first floor. Adelio's earlier warnings still remained in her mind. And the moment she heard the creak of a floorboard and a murmur of a voice, Matthew bolted down the rest of the stairs, not looking back.

The kitchen was dark and oddly quiet when she reached there. The dishes were stacked neatly off the side and some scattering remained on the counters. The heavy scent of food still remained and it only made Matthew's mouth water more. But it would be rude to raid the kitchen for food without permission, so she dejectedly headed back to the dining room, hoping to find Master Wang.

She quickly scanned the room in hopes to see Master Wang and was disappointed when he wasn't here either. To her surprise, there was someone else sitting in the dining hall, reading the newspaper and a half-eaten sandwich in front of him.

The man glanced up when she entered, evidently surprised to see someone so early like himself. He nearly stood up in his stunned haste. " Jones? What are you doing here?"

With a patient sigh, she quickly explained. " I'm not Mr Jones."

He studied her for a moment, pursing his lips in scrutiny, before finally sitting back down. " Wait a minute. Aren't you the last one to perform last night? The one who replaced Elizabeta?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward towards her in interested curiosity.

The embarrassment of last night sharply resonated in her. " Yes," she mumbled, ducking her head, hoping vainly that the image of her wearing that particular revealing dress would fade away soon.

" They're calling you all sorts of names, you know," the man smirked, proving her fears right. " The 'Lady in Red', from what I heard."

Her jaw went slack. " W-w-what? T-that's impossible," Matthew spluttered, turning red. " Why would anyone call me that?"

Amused, he shrugged, rolling his shoulders back at ease. He leaned back on his chair, its back legs dangling listlessly above the floor. " You put up one heck of a performance last night. That's good enough for some people," he pointed out.

She didn't expect that last night's performance would have such an aftermath like that. In fact, it unnerved her a bit. The fact that most of the people there knew she was a "guy" pretending to be a girl seemed to make things worse.

" By the way, just asking, but are you a girl or a guy?"

Flushing, Matthew's head snapped up towards him. " I - I'm a boy!" she spluttered, curbing her voice in indignation.

But he seemed to accept it. He even threw out his hands to ward off her (supposed) outrage. " Relax! I didn't mean any offense," he grinned. " I was just checking. I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression that I swing that way."

Heat still creeping up her neck, she managed to control her very real apprehension before casually shrugging. " Don't worry. You're not the first person to mistaken me for a girl," she easily drawled.

His grin widened. " Trust me when I say that when I first saw you performing last night, I could have swore to my father's grave that you were a girl. A very nice-looking young girl that I would have loved to ask out for a few drinks if I didn't know any better." He chuckled at her embarrassed expression, enjoying the fact he was needling her to no end. " So how did a kid like you got dragged into doing it?"

Despite his teasings, Matthew liked his casual, relaxed attitude. " Monsieur Bonnefoy brought me to Mister Feliks who got me ready for the performance."

" Ahh, Feliks. Our one and only self-proclaimed costume designer." The man's lips were crooked to a side, not entirely in amusement and leaning more towards annoyance. " Not quite what you expect from a guy."

" No," she admitted, remembering how he was admiring himself from the mirror and placing pink girlish barrettes in his blond hair when she and Monsieur Bonnefoy entered unexpectedly into his room. " But I think he's nice," she added as an afterthought.

" Nice?" He snorted in disbelief. " Wait until you catch him in one of his moods that he likes to do for the fun of it. A few months back, I got roped into it and if I could have killed him, I would have, if Bonnefoy didn't stop me." His face glowered as if he had tasted something sour in his mouth and Matthew knew better than to ask the details of what happened those few months ago.

" I haven't introduced myself yet," she quickly said, hoping to take his mind off of whatever ill memories he had revoked. " My name is Matthew Williams."

His frown disappeared for the time being as he turned his focus back on her. " Lars," he returned.

Lars. She recognized the name as the one who Bella had briefly mentioned as the one who often bickered with her. She could see that his laidback approach might have caused an issue with some people and perhaps Belgium was one of those people.

" I heard you were an actor?" he asked her. " Just got hired yesterday?" He whistled appreciatively. " Must be good to convince Bonnefoy to keep you."

" That's what everyone else has been saying," Matthew mused out loud. Thinking back now, both Cuba and Belgium had mentioned the fact to her, how Monsieur Bonnefoy wasn't hiring anyone for the longest time and how they wondered how he was so effortlessly swayed to hire her when he couldn't afford to.

" Don't see a problem with that. You probably heard some of the rumours already, even if you've only been here for a day." He rolled his eyes when she shook her head, blinking in confusion. " No? And I thought Feliks was scatterbrained enough," he muttered to himself. " Anyways, I'm sure even someone like you know that we are in a depression, right?" he added with a slight, threatening growl.

When Matthew quickly nodded to not curb his irritation again, Lars continued with a dry, bitter quirk to his mouth. " Money has been running low these days and even we are being stretched to our limits. You can tell by how many customers we get. Look at last night. Twenty-something people showed up all night and for a place like ours, that's not good to pay off the bills. Bonnefoy can't afford to hire anyone else because he can't. Less customers means less food at the dinner table. All our cheques keep getting lower and lower and there's nothing we can do about it."

She understood what Lars meant. For the last few years, since the Depression began, work and pay had been hard to come by. Even when she came to the city, there wasn't much hope to finding a job. Fortunately for her, Monsieur Bonnefoy proved her wrong.

_But that doesn't explain why he hired me even he had every reason not to,_ she thought to herself, puzzled.

" I - I'm sorry," she stammered out loud to him. " I didn't know that _Le Château_ was in such a predicament."

Now, Lars looked amused. " What are you apologizing for? It's not like you caused the Depression. Even if you did, you probably weren't even born during that time."

" I'm not that young," she pouted. " I turned sixteen last year."

" And I'm your grandmother," he snorted. " Either way, you're younger than me."

" How old are you then?" Matthew challenged, almost impulsively.

He winked. " Not telling." Sticking out his tongue like a child, he stood up and pushed his half-finished sandwich towards her, to her surprise. " Take it. Your stomach was growling for the last ten minutes while we were talking," he teased, grinning at her reddening face. " Besides, I gotta go meet up with Bonnefoy."

Glowing with gratitude, she accepted it, eyes shining in delight. How Bella and Lars never got along was beyond her. " Thank you very much."

He smiled, taking note the rare and beautiful color of amethyst behind her glasses. They glittered like gemstones. " You can thank me by staying out of trouble like a good little boy, Mattie," he smirked, before he left with a friendly wave, leaving her a bit dumbfounded and surprised.

Her brother was the only one who ever called her Mattie.

~.~.~.~

" The Twelfth Night," Sadiq announced as soon as he strolled the room, opening the door with a bang, purposely ignoring Heracles' scowls. " I already discussed with Bonnefoy and he consented to it."

" That originated from Korea!" Yong Soo, a loud and cheerful boy, piped up.

And everyone simply ignored him. " You decided the play without speaking to the rest of us?" Heracles acidly said. " But I suppose someone with a small brain like yours can't comprehend something like that," he added with a sneer.

" What did you say?"

Elizabeta instantly stepped in between them before either of them could get into another fight. " I agree with Monsieur Bonnefoy. I think it's a lovely idea," she loudly said. " We haven't done Twelfth Night before."

" I still like have some of the costumes from the last Shakespearean play we did," Feliks (who was also heavily involved in the costumes for the troupe) added excitedly. " I'll just totally fix them up for this play."

Nodding in agreement, the brown-haired boy Toris who Matthew had seen earlier before also spoke up. " And since Matthew joined us, we should have just enough actors to do it." He smiled gratefully at her, causing her to smile back at him. They had spoke briefly before Sadiq had entered and almost immediately, they got along quite nicely.

" I will be Orsino," both Heracles and Sadiq immediately proclaimed, before irritably glaring at each other.

" One of you could be Malvolio," Toris quickly suggested. " He has just as much as an important role as Orsino or Viola."

" Speaking of that, who will be Viola?"

Feliks then clapped a hand to Matthew's shoulder. " I think Matthew has already proven he looks convincingly like a girl, as well as a boy. He would fit the role perfectly."

Alarm shuddered through her. The thought of returning so soon back on stage, despite yesterday night being a success, made her feel frightfully anxious and nerve-racked. " I - I don't know," she stammered. " I - I never acted on stage before ..."

" But you performed so well last night," Yong Soo exclaimed. " It's in the headlines already._ The mysterious Lady in Red, who charmed everyone last night_," he recited, as if reading from the newspaper. He paused, peering inquisitively at her. " Can I touch your breasts?"

" No!" Matthew yelled out, instinctively cover up her chest, her face bright pink from the mortification.

" Don't worry. Yong Soo was just teasing," Toris explained, as Feliks laughed.

" It's not like you're a girl or something," he chuckled in amusement, making her turn even redder.

If only he knew ...

The desperation on her face must have convinced Elizabeta to step in to help her out. " Why don't we give Matthew an easier part first?" she proposed. " He said that he doesn't have a lot of experience so we could prepare him by building up his experience first. Why don't we give him the role of Antonio? He has a few yet important scenes and it's a small enough role to help get Matthew started."

A murmur of consent rustled through the room and Matthew could have hugged Elizabeta in gratitude for saving her from Yong Soo, who was still staring intently at her, and from having such a major role for her first time. " Then who will be Viola?" Toris asked. " And we have to decide who Olivia will be, since Miss Elizabeta is the only female actress."

There was a slight pause. " It won't hurt if we dress you up as a girl, would it?" Feliks happily chirped.

Immediately, Toris turned an interesting shade of crimson, like Matthew had done before. Except he really was a boy and not a girl. " W-w-what? I - I'm not going through with_ that _again!" he spluttered irritably.

" Come on. You're just exaggerating. Last time was totally fun. We got a lot of customers that day too." The blond grinned deftly as Toris flushed. " Don't get so heckled about it. You won't be the only one. After all, we got Matthew and Shen here to dress up too. Which would be like totally awesome if you ask me."

The said young Chinese boy by the window said nothing and no expression betrayed his thoughts. Perhaps the only thing that indicated his annoyance was a slight furrow of his bushy eyebrows. Matthew on the other hand snapped her head towards him in disbelief, eyes widening, feeling miffed that she was so easily offered up to the wolves, so to speak.

" I - I thought I was playing Antonio," she choked out. Which was a _boy_'s name the last time she had heard.

" It's not completely decided yet," Elizabeta vaguely said in her direction, pondering to herself about the roles. " We have yet to decide the two main roles and we still have Olivia's role to decide." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. " How about if I play Olivia and Toris plays Viola? It would benefit everyone as a whole," she quickly said in answer to Toris's splutters. " I agree with Feliks that we did accumulate a lot of customers when we had Toris and a few others wore dresses - "

" See? At least somebody agrees with me for once."

" - and Toris hasn't gotten a chance to be in a main role before. I think this would be a great opportunity for him." _A great opportunity to see him paired up with other guys_, she mentally added. She twittered happily to herself, eyes closed in bliss, much to the confusion of her fellow actors.

Not realizing Elizabeta's thoughts, Toris wasn't sure whether he should be pleased or embarrassed. " A-are you sure that I should take this role?" he asked, glancing around at the others for confirmation. " Not that I mind or anything. Only if everyone else is okay with it ..."

" I totally have confidence in you," Feliks brightly said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

" Toris would be an excellent choice," Sadiq nodded in approval. Despite throwing a dirty glare at him for stealing the line he wanted to say first, Heracles agreed also.

" Korea approves!"

" So looks like you get to be Viola," Elizabeta cheerfully said, clapping a hand to Toris's shoulder.

Blushing slightly, he tried to conceal his happiness and failed miserably. " I'll do my best."

" Now that Viola and Olivia's roles are settled, we still have the other roles to deal with."

" As I said, I'll be Orsino," Heracles and Sadiq declared once again, only to snarl at each other.

" What do you say?"

" Bring it on, bastard!"

Shen cleared his throat, speaking for the first time since the discussion began, calmly interrupting. " I nominate Matthew to play Sebastian," he said, so quiet that they could barely hear his voice. " I think the role would fit him more than Antonio."

Elizabeta gazed thoughtfully at Matthew, as if her eyes alone could imagine what she would look like as Sebastian. " Yes. I think that would work much better," Elizabeta murmured, the gears in her brain clicking and whirring away.

" But I wanted to dress Matthew up too!"

" You can do that another time, you know ..."

_Sebastian does get to spend some lovely moments with Antonio after all_, Elizabeta thought deviously. The smile on her face widened mischieviously. " It works out nicely. Just look at the two of them. Toris and Matthew do look alike, don't you think?" She grabbed their arms, forcing them to stand side by side. Her face glowed with delight. " They look like brothers," she gushed. _And another very nice pair, if I do say so myself._

" They do look rather similar," Heracles remarked, glancing at Matthew. His emotionless gaze suggested that he knew something that he shouldn't have and it made Matthew feel slightly uncomfortable. She shifted, hunching her shoulders, trying to avoid his stare.

" Nice! They really pulled off the brother and sister look, just like that," Feliks grinned, snapping his fingers excitedly.

" So it's agreed then? I'm Viola. Elizabeta is Olivia. Matthew is Sebastian." After the collective nods and murmurs, Toris continued. " Now that those roles are taken care of and what's left is - "

Angry voices erupted from outside, cutting Toris off. They all looked at each other in confusion before hurrying to the door to find out what was causing the commotion.

" You cannot delay anymore, Bonnefoy. We have stretched our patience to the limit - "

" We are doing all that we can to settle the expenses." Monsieur Bonnefoy's calm voice floated gracefully throughout the hallways of _La Château_. Though even as he spoke, the thick tension remained heavy and pressed urgently down on all of them. " If you would be so kind as to give us a few more days - "

" Enough of your excuses!" the man growled. " Bonnefoy, you have delayed the payment for months now. We have been more than generous with your dilly-daddling. If you don't pay now, we will be forced to cut all your resources!"

By now, everyone was peeking out from doors, frozen where they stood, watching the scene with tense curiosity. " Not again," Sadiq muttered.

" What's going on?" Matthew whispered to Toris. " Who is that man?"

" A debt collector," he whispered back, eyes darting nervously at the man. " He wants the money for the rent. Monsieur has been pushing him away for weeks now and he keeps coming back, almost everyday now." His mouth was pressed into a worried crease. " But I've never seen him look this angry."

" - water. Electricity. Heat. Everything. All your customers would be driven away," the debt collector was angrily rambling. His face was bloated and spitting at Monsieur Bonnefoy, as he jabbed a finger at him. Despite his small statue, the magnitude of his words were able to strike fear and dread into any listening ear. " And all your _lackeys_ would be left without a job and they'll only have to blame you for it." His lips turned to a derisive sneer. " After all, no decent employer would even think to hire a house full of - "

The burning glint in Monsieur Bonnefoy's eyes was rather terrifying to behold and a mere glance of it was enough to silence the fuming debt collector. " I advise you, _monsieur_, to not speak of things you do not understand," he spoke quietly, his voice only betraying a slight tremor to hide his rage. " Particularly if it concerns my employees." He indicated curtly towards the door, his gaze cold and hard. " This meeting is over. _Au revior_."

" We aren't done here," the man spluttered, fists clenched at his sides. " I'll be coming back and the next time that I do, it will be too late for you to - "

" You heard him," Lars growled, looming over him. And behind him, Cuba cracked his knucles menacingly and Vash had already brought out his gun. " We have no further business with you. So I suggest that you leave."

Face red with indignation, he gathered up his things. " Fine. If that's what you people want," he snarled. " This place will be closed down for good because your obstinate foolishness. You brought this on yourselves. Don't blame me when you all starve on the streets like the rats that you are."

" Here's the door,_ sir_." Lars spat out of the last word particularly, opening the door and mockingly ushering the debt collector towards it. " I think you know how to use it."

Growling a mutter of curses, the debt collector roughly shouldered past Lars and with a final glare, left _Le Château_.

There was a brief pause before everyone returned back to their activities, scuttling away and whispering anxiously to themselves. " It'll be all right," Monsieur Bonnefoy quietly assured Elizabeta, who approached him, eyes wide with concern. He smiled at her in a half-hearted way. " We'll find some way to pay off the rent. We'll be fine. We always are."

And yet, it didn't relieve any of their fears.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

_Au revoir _(French) - Goodbye

Holland and Canada have very good relations, Canada having freed Netherlands during World War II from Germany. In eternal gratitude, every year, Netherlands sends thousands of tulips (their national flower) to Ottawa, Canada's capital city. Also, Netherlands had some colonies in North America and fought against France to occupy the now present Maritimes Provinces, until the British annexed it. It just adds to the ship tease _and_ the mystery of Matthew's brother. ^_^

Like the pair above, Canada and Lithuania's relations are generally pretty good also. Canada was also the first nation to recognize the Baltic countries' independence.

I chose "Shen" for Hong Kong's human name, mostly because I found it "Shen" meant spirit or deep thought. Since Hong Kong doesn't speak much, I assumed he has a lot of time to think about things. ^_^


	7. Incident On The First Floor

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?  
_

~ Maurice Freehill_  
_

**Chapter 7 -** Incident On The First Floor**  
**

The matter with the debt collector and his threat to cut off _Le Château_'s resources haunted and lingered in the minds of said residents, leaving them to shoot nervous glances at any figure that entered the building.

" I heard that when the Rizzo family couldn't pay for their house, everything got cut off all at once," Bella told the others. She paused, allowing her listeners to give a sympathetic sigh towards the family who often came over to see their plays. And to frown and fret about their own fate. " With no home, they had to pack up and leave the city."

" That's nothing," Lars snorted. He promptly ignored Bella's heated glares. " You all know Thomas Robins. The man who owned Robins' Bookstore down on Baker street. When customers started going down and his money used up dry for drinking, he had to rely on using his own books for fuel during the winter. When that wasn't enough, the collectors came and took whatever he had left. No money and no help from anyone whatsoever. They found him frozen to death near the pubs, trying to string out one last bottle."

Toris shuddered in alarm and Katyusha looked like he could cry. " Don't be silly-aru," Master Wang impatiently said, handing out food as he spoke. " We have plenty of time before winter approaches. There are food banks and the government does provide for the unemployed. Unfortunately for Thomas Robins, he had too much pride not to go."

" Better to have too much pride than nothing at all," Sadiq retorted, moodily stabbing at his scrambled eggs. The others murmured and Master Wang didn't reply.

Stretched on her bed, Matthew was one of the few who didn't hear the conversation happening below in the dining hall. She was busily flipping through Toris' copy of the Twelfth Night, hoping to come across anything that would prepare her role as Sebastian better.

" _A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled/me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; but/though I could not with such estimate wonder/overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly/publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but/call fair. She drowned already, sir, with salt/water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more_," she recited, trying to picture Sebastian's anguish at the loss of his twin sister.

The mental image tugged at her own heart, remembering how she had lost her brother and wandered like a lost soul for years. She sympathized with Sebastian, who knew not what to do but do continue living his life, burying the memories of his sister. Smiling sadly to herself, Matthew was surprised how accurately this role fit her.

Suddenly, there was a odd hissing sound rumbling throughout the walls, startling her, making her shoot up from her comfortable position. By the time she pressed her hand to the wall, it was already gone. Indignant voices shouted and echoed throughout the floors above and below.

" Hey, what's going on?"

" What happened to the water?"

" Some people are trying to take a shower here, dammit!"

Adelio's own cursing could be heard from inside the washroom. " Are you okay in here?" Matthew called, climbing down the ladder.

" Yeah. For the most part." Accompanied by more mutters and swearing. " Give me a moment here. I'm coming out."

What Matthew wasn't expecting to see was a half-clothed Adelio coming out, wearing only his jeans and a towel wrapped around his neck, revealing a well-toned body and broad shoulders. His dreadlocks had become loose and wavy as a result from contact with water, trickling over his shoulders and down his back. Matters didn't improve that he was still visibly wet and glistening with sweat and his dark skin looked flushed.

" You find out what's going on?" he asked her, apparently not noticing the effect he had on her.

Looking everywhere but him, she attempted to get her numb tongue to work. " Don't know. Seems like everyone else is having at the same problem," she managed to stutter out. To her embarrassment, her eyes irresistibly kept being drawn back towards Adelio's chest.

" I'll check the sink to see if it's still working!" she suddenly blurted out, hurrying to the kitchen, ignoring the confused look he gave her. Her eyes were pinched shut to avoid the temptation to look behind her, knowing that if she did, she would only make a fool of herself again.

Feeling very warm and repulsed by her own erratic behavior, she gripped the knobs of the sink tightly, twisting them with savage intent. What was going on with her? It wasn't like it was the first time she had seen a man without a shirt. In fact, her earlier, unfortunate experience with seeing those kinds of men trying to take advantage of other women and professing themselves in an immoral way towards them absolutely disgusted her, very thankful that it wasn't her that their attentions were focused on. And it wasn't the first time she had seen Adelio before - except it was the first time she had seen him like_ that_ before.

She liked Adelio. He was nice to her (despite their first brief encounter) and she couldn't ask for a better roommate. They got along well and are often seen together during their breaks and meals. If there wasn't any other word, Matthew would have called him her friend. And yet ...

The heat burned her cheeks fiercely and she felt the lump in her throat expand painfully so. There was no explanation for why her heart was beating so fast or why she couldn't stop staring at Cuba without blushing. It wasn't as if she was _attracted_ to him in that way -

" Did it work?" The realization that Adelio was standing right behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin and she flushed more deeply.

" N-n-no, it didn't." Matthew quickly wrenched her sweaty, trembling hands from the faucets, clenching them in front of her, so he wouldn't see. " Looks like there isn't any water here at all."

" That's just great." His voice was a low drawl in her ear, whispering his words in a soft hum, causing her heart to race yet again. Whether intentionally or not, she couldn't tell.

Licking dry lips, she forced herself to suck in a breath and turned slowly to face him. He gazed back at her, his blank expression not even hinting at a sliver of emotion. She wondered if he realized how tight her throat had gotten or if he even noticed that he was unconsciously causing this peculiar response from her. " I could go find Monsieur Bonnefoy," she said, as steadily and calmly as she could.

He grinned and this time, she noticed how his lips delved deeply into flesh and how they curled to make his smile. How she never noticed it until now baffled her. " That sounds good. I'll go get changed."

Matthew quickly nodded and left without saying another word, not looking back at Adelio, afraid that if she did say something, it would only make the situation worse than it already was.

~.~.~.~

By the time she made it down the stairs and to the kitchens, the heat from her cheeks managed to dissipate for the most part and her heart had returned to its normal rate. Forcing herself to turn her thoughts away from Adelio, Matthew found Master Wang in the kitchen, who was muttering over the dirty dishes by the sink.

" Everyone's blaming me ... I told them to save some water, but those fools didn't listen ... what am I suppose to do about it ...?"

She approached him timidly. " Um, excuse me, Master Wang? Do you know where I can find Monsieur Bonnefoy?"

" ... Those ungrateful bastards - Oh, Matthew." A faint blush tinted Master Wang's cheeks in embarrassment. " My apologies, I didn't see you there. You said you're looking for Monsieur Bonnefoy? He's currently busy with a customer."

She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. " Maybe we can ask some neighbors for extra water if you need some," she suggested, eyeing the dirtied dishes.

Master Wang shook his head, a scowl written across his face. " They will only blackmail and feed off us like wolves. We can't trust them." He sighed. " There is only one person I know Monsieur Bonnefoy would go to, as much as _I_ don't trust him." Frowning, his mouth curled in displeasure, as if remembering an unpleasant memory. " He's an artist, but is rather reclusive and isolated from everyone else. But he would help," he grudgingly admitted. " Honda-sensei. That's his name."

" How can we reach him?"

" Find Heracles. He's friends with Honda-sensei. I'm not quite sure where he is, at the moment."

And unfortunately, it seemed that the others didn't either.

Elizabeta suggested he could be in his room on the third floor. When Matthew discovered he wasn't there, Yong Soo tried to point out he might be in the dining hall (" Korea invented breakfast, you know?"). Not spotting a hair of Heracles there, Roderich calmly advised her to search in the main diner area. Upon finding out Heracles wasn't there either, Katyusha recommended the acting rooms, since he liked to sleep there when there were no customers. She meet with Feliks after leaving the last empty acting room, who then immediately offered the idea that Heracles could be napping in someone else's room, since he has a habit of just falling asleep there, and at the same breath, wanted to drag her away to dress her up. After knocking and looking into every room on the second and third floors, Matthew asked Shen who was coming out of his room, who only mutely waved out the window, indicating the possibility that Heracles was outside.

Exhausted and growing irritable, she bumped into Vash there. " Have you seen Heracles?" she breathlessly asked.

" No. I haven't seen him all morning," he replied indifferently, barely even glancing at her.

At this point, she could almost yell her frustrations out. " Do you have any idea where he might be? That isn't his room, the dining room, the main diner area, the acting rooms, any room on the second and third floors or somewhere outside?" she hotly demanded.

He raised an eyebrow at her sweating, red-colored cheeks. " Did you try the first floor?"

His question drove a shiver down her back. " No," she meekly said.

" Then go there."

Fingering her shirt nervously, Matthew looked imploringly at him. " W-well, about that - "

This time, Vash looked sharply at her. " You're afraid of what happens there," he realized. Though she didn't quite understand, she nodded her head and he sighed softly. " There is nothing to fear there. Find Heracles and leave any impressions you had here."

Not understanding entirely, she took his advice. Climbing up the stairs to the first floor, Matthew could feel her heart beating faster in anticipation.

The floor was quiet than the rest of the other floors. The hallway was similar to the second and third floors, though it appeared more bare and empty. She passed by room from room, calling for Heracles, knocking on silent doors. Reaching one of the doors near the end of the hall, Matthew swallowed and raised her fist as she did seventeen times before.

To her surprise, the door creaked open, apparently not locked like the others. Cautiously entering, Matthew could see the elegant furniture and adornments that embellished the room. Ruby red tablecloth hung over a polished desk. An aristocratic fireplace was now smothered to its last sparks. Portraits of kings and landscape decorated the well-furbished walls. It was as if a wealthy lord or lady lived here.

" Heracles, are you here?" she called out, as meekly as she could, hoping he wasn't asleep and that she wasn't disrupting him. " I was wondering if you could help us find - "

But no sooner than she had peered across the corner, her face turned beet red when she realized that she wasn't talking to Heracles at all.

An older woman, tall and willowy, glanced up at her, dressed in nothing but a loose, revealing nightgown, pulling long, satin black stockings over her slender legs. " Oh. Heracles didn't mention that someone was coming to pick me up." Her voice was low and husky, reminding Matthew of a cat purring seductively, playfully baiting the mouse it was hunting.

" I'm not here for that," she quickly corrected, trying to look everywhere else but at her. She knew it was rude of her to act like that towards a guest of _Le Château_. But there was something stirring up in her chest, making her feel viciously impertinent at this stranger who she knew nothing about and she didn't bothered to care at the moment.

The woman cocked an eyebrow in amusement, as she pulled a heavy fur coat over her arms and slipping into dark leather boots. " What's your name, boy?"

Jerking her head curtly, she managed not to snap that it was none of her business and she had no right to call her "boy". Instead, she adopted a strained smile. " My name is Matthew. Is Heracles here?" she asked, hoping to shift the topic of conversation away from her. " I have a message for him from - "

She was cut off when the woman suddenly reached out and grabbed her chin, inspecting her with an icy disposition. Alarmed, Matthew tried to step back, or at least call for help, but she couldn't quite get her tongue to work properly.

" You must be new around here," the woman remarked softly, her red painted nails squeezing against Matthew's cheeks painfully. " Otherwise, you would have known who I am."

Biting back the retort that she was nothing but a slimy old coot, she swallowed and hoped that the look on her face wasn't imploring or pitiful. It wouldn't help her much in this situation, where the woman had this strange dominating effect on her. " C-could you let me go?" Matthew mumbled, inching slowly away, while wondering frantically where was Heracles and where was everyone else. " I - I need to know where Heracles is and - and I have to get back to work soon."

Still surveying her with interest, the woman appeared not to have heard a single thing she just said. " You're quite cute, if I say so myself." She chuckled at Matthew's glowing cheeks, a high-pitched cruel sound in Matthew's ears. " And there's the factor of age," she muttered to herself. " But I might make an exception this time. How much does Monsieur Bonnefoy offer you for?" she directly asked Matthew.

" W-what?" She stared dumbfounded at the woman, not sure whether she should be indignant or horrified.

" The price," the woman repeated, this time with a note of impatience. Apparently, she wasn't used to repeating herself too often. " I was asking you how much it would cost for you. Twenty dollars? Thirty? Fifty? Though that would be pushing it a tiny bit." She smiled, the corners of her mouth curving upwards in a dark line, intensified by her red, full lips.

" Me? The - the price for me?" Matthew tried to laugh but it turned out more of a choked gasp. " I'm not sure what you are talking about, ma'am. There is no price on me and I am certain that Monsieur Bonnefoy isn't trying to sell me. I am no slave and I have the documents to prove it."

Now it was the woman's turn to laugh. It almost hurt Matthew' ears. " Oh, you silly little thing. I wasn't talking about slaves and servants. I already got plenty of those at my beck and call. I was talking about something else." She leaned forward, dragging Matthew uncomfortably close towards her. " Something much more different than that."

Her dark blue eyes burned into Matthew's eyes, making her shudder and gasp. They were frightfully close, their noses only inches apart. Sweat stuck to her forehead, clumping wayward strands tightly on her clammy skin. Her heart was painfully thumping hard against her chest and she was frozen like a startled rabbit, too scared to bolt and run for her life. Her mind screaming at her to escape, she tried to open her mouth to yell -

" Lady Blackwood? I thought you had already left," Heracles' voice asked, as he strolled casually from his bedroom, wearing only pants and an unbuttoned shirt.

The blush on Matthew's cheeks only intensified. Thankfully, the woman's attention had turned away from her to focus on Heracles. " I was about to, darling," she blithely chirped. The disgustingly sweet purr in her voice had returned. The way she referred to Heracles as darling only made Matthew hate her more. " But the sight of you sleeping so peacefully and then this delightful young boy came in and I couldn't resist."

Was it just Matthew's imagination but it did it appear that through the sleepy glaze of Heracles' eyes, they sharpened suddenly and shot her a worried glance?

" - but he insists he isn't for a price," Lady Blackwood chuckled airily. She smiled at Matthew and then back at Heracles. " Is that true, darling? Monsieur Bonnefoy hasn't set a price for this young boy? Perhaps he's saving Matthew here for himself. I certainly would, if I were in his position." She laughed again, though her two companions did not share in her humor.

Not one bit.

" The morning is getting late," Heracles told her. " You should leave soon."

" If you insist," she sighed dramatically. " Though I wouldn't mind if I stayed for a few more hours." She slyly sneaked a wink at Matthew, who hastily looked away.

" And the payment must be made directly to Monsieur Bonnefoy or Roderich our accountant before you leave," he continued as if she had not spoken. " Have a good day, Lady Blackwood. Until next time." He inclined his head politely, as if hurrying to end their conversation immediately.

" As to you, darling. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed last night." She smiled prettily, fluttering her eyelashes in his direction. Heracles wisely said nothing, remaining stoically silent. " But I mustn't speak of that in front of children," she added, glancing at Matthew, pressing a gloved hand to her lips, giggling childishly. " Good day to you too, Matthew. Perhaps the next time we meet, we can - ahh, how shall I say it? - _continue_ our little discussion, hm?"

Feeling sick to her stomach, she could only nod. If almost being forced into a kiss was Lady Blackwood's kind of discussion.

Taking her silence for shyness, Lady Blackwood fondly patted her cheek. " You're just too cute," she gushed. " Makes me want to just gobble you up."

" Lady Blackwood, your carriage is waiting for you outside," Heracles interrupted, his voice noticeably colder than before and had none of its previous warmth and easiness. He took her arm and ushered her towards the door, stepping precisely between Matthew and Lady Blackwood, who thankfully didn't notice. " Best not to keep them waiting."

" Such a gentleman, darling," she drawled. " I knew you were my favorite for a reason."

Matthew tried not to leap at her and strangle her as Lady Blackwood kissed Heracles on the cheek, leaving a bruising red mark on his skin, and left, waving cheerily at them. It also took most of her effort not to turn her wrath towards Heracles either.

" Who was she?" she grated through her teeth, fighting not to let everything explode all at once.

" That was Lady Blackwood, wife of Lord Blackwood who owns majority of the fishing companies by the docks," Heracles replied, calmly wiping the lipstick from his cheek. His expression was once again blank and serene. " She is one of our cherished customers."

_More like cursed_, Matthew bitterly thought. " And you ... _cater_ to her needs?" she shrewdly commented with a twisted scowl. " Anything that she ... wants?"

" Of course."

It was said instantly and without hesitation. Not a hint of guilt or disgust in his voice. The fact he admitted it so quickly and easily made Matthew only more angry. " Why would you subject yourself to someone like that?" she seethed. " Why would you even let yourself become something of a - a _plaything_ to anyone like that?"

The shrill tone in her voice rose uncontrollably and Matthew couldn't stop herself now that she was already going. " Did Monsieur Bonnefoy set you up to this? Did he put a price on you, sell you to them and let them do whatever they want to you? If he did, why did you let him? Why didn't you run away or - or call the police? Why would you bring yourself down to their level? Unless you're doing it for fun. That you like this sort of thing and getting some sort of sick pleasure from it!"

At that point, Matthew knew she said too much. Heracles' jaw was clenched and his eyes smothered in an unspoken emotion. " I'm sorry," she stammered. " I didn't mean to - "

_Bam!_

His hands were pressed against the wall, only inches away from Matthew's face. His muscular arms stretched out before her, cornering her, trapping her under his looming figure. The emotionless haze in his eyes frightened her much more than Lady Blackwood did.

But unlike before with Lady Blackwood, there was an unspoken trust between them. Somehow, she knew that Heracles would never do what Lady Blackwood wanted to do to her, that he would never hurt her, even if she said those things. And she didn't quite know why.

" I - I don't expect you to understand," Heracles murmured, so softly that she had to strain to hear him. " Most people don't. They see me - my kind of people - as scum of the earth. Dirt beneath their shoes, even. But _don't _speak as if you know us. You think you have the right to judge us. But you've never been where we have been. Some of us need the money or else we'll starve on the streets. Not all of us can sing and dance. We have to survive. And this is the only way."

The sadness and resentment in his voice stunned her. Heracles had always appeared to her as someone who was childishly carefree and happy-go-lucky. " It's not the only way," Matthew argued. " You have many skills, Heracles. Much more than I have. What about - what about acting? You're an actor, aren't you? A-and I heard Adelio saying that you could pull off being a security guard if you wanted to. See? There are so many more honest work that could be done than - "

" Than what? Chances are securing one of those jobs are little to none," he bitterly pointed out. " Only the best of actors get hired. To them, I am nothing but an amateur. And with my looks, no one would hire me as a security guard. I am too soft for that anyways. Even a job like a stagehand or the lowest security guard, you're only hired for a day and you're still left without any kind of shelter with barely enough money to eat with no guarantee that you'll be able to get the same job again for weeks. And if you have a family, it's even worse. You might have to leave them to get the money. Or you leave them because you know them can't afford to feed another mouth."

Something dawned upon her. She looked at him with a mixture of horror and pity. " That's what happened to you," Matthew realized, her voice coming out in a whisper.

The light behind his eyes glinted, but only for a moment. His voice returned to its quiet, solemn murmur. " It happens all the time these days to anyone," he finally said quietly. " This place is one of the few places, if not the only place in the city, that could accept you and provide housing, food and a reasonable salary."

Heracles was now watching her with an emotionless gaze, deep and searching, just like when they first met on the stairs, that made Matthew squirm just as uncomfortably as before. " I don't know why you were chosen by Monsieur Bonnefoy out of every person who was turned down. But you were." His eyes bore lazily into hers. " Either way, you were one of the lucky ones. Saved by luck or by fate. Unlike the rest of us. Please remember that."

Then, he removed his arms from the wall and his shadow no longer loomed dangerously over her. Suddenly, she could breath much easier, though her throat remained constricted and her eyes suspiciously glassy. Heracles looked upon her with an odd sort of inspection, as if contemplating whether she truly understood his words, before giving her brief nod.

Without a further word, he brushed past her and out the door, leaving Matthew alone in his room.

~.~.~.~

" What do you want, thick eyebrows?"

Mr Kirkland's mouth tightened visibly but other than that, there was no change of expression. " I'm here to talk about my proposal," he continued. " It's quite simple and if anything, it benefits you more on the side of the - "

" Not interested."

His jaw clenched. " _Le Château_ is hanging by a thread," he doggedly continued as if he wasn't interrupted. " As you found out this morning, the water supply has been cut. Electricity would be next. And then what are you and your people going to do? The debt collector wasn't joking when he said he would strip this place of everything."

He might have been fooled that Monsieur Bonnefoy was taking everything in so calmly, if he didn't know him well enough. Monsieur Bonnefoy's fingers were etched into his glass of wine, ghostly imprints gleaming against the pristine surface. But when he released his grip, there was barely a tremble. " I will handle it," he smoothly said. " This isn't the first time we had this crisis and this isn't the first time that the debt collector had threatened to cut off our resources."

" Don't be a fool, Bonnefoy," Mr Kirkland softly said. " You and I both know that this was the first time that the debt collector actually carried out one of his threats." He plowed on when Monsieur Bonnefoy didn't try to retort and make some snide remark. " My boss is making a completely reasonable proposal. Take it and your debts and money woes would be faster than you could - "

" We don't need your assistance," Monsieur Bonnefoy snapped, his blue eyes sharply glaring at the Englishman. " After all, why should we trust thieves and pirates like you?" he sneered derisively.

Mr Kirkland's eyes narrowed darkly. " The military are no thieves and pirates," he coolly replied. " Our soldiers are well-trained and smart enough to know not to steal from the poor."

" What did you call me!"

" Bonnefoy, there's no denying that _Le Château_ is in desperate need of money. We can provide for that. Simply allow us to take Miss Elizabeta - "

" Out of the question."

" ... Miss Bella also - "

" Definitely not."

" ... Roderich would greatly help - "

" No, not him either."

" - and your latest addition, Matthew ..."

At this, Monsieur Bonnefoy lowered his wine glass on the table a little harder than he meant to, the glass clinking softly against the wood. Mr Kirkland looked on with a stony silence. " I have heard enough," he sternly said, standing up. " This concludes our meeting, _monsieur_."

" You're only running away from the problem, frog," Mr Kirkland pointed out, with a hint of his familiar sneer.

" There is no need to speak of my problems. I can handle them on my own."

" Then what about the businesses of the first floor?"

Monsieur Bonnefoy flinched slightly. The grim smile Mr Kirkland was satisfied, knowing he caught his rival in his tracks. " Don't think that I don't know about what happens there. Even with that sort of trade happening, it's still not enough, is it? Your customers are dwindling day after day and even if they come, they go for the cheapest price, no matter how hard you try to bargain with them. Am I right?"

Calmly folding his fingers upon each other, Monsieur Bonnefoy leaned forward from his seat and gazed at him. " What happens in _Le Château_ is my concern, you slimy ****," he coldly said, dropping all the formalities and any pretenses that he could reason with the man. " Now get out."

If it were any other person, they would have melted at the fierceness of Monsieur Bonnefoy's glare and muttered excuses and quickly backed away. Perhaps Mr Kirkland would have snarled several insults and thrown in more foul language (maybe even tried to strangle Monsieur Bonnefoy if he had the chance) if Vash hadn't appeared by the doorway. " Need help?" he drawled almost in boredom, his gun hanging by his hip, ready for use.

With only a flicker of fear in his eyes, Mr Kirkland evenly collected his things. " No thank you. I know my way to the door," he said calmly, even including a smile to Vash, as if to mock them and say he wasn't scared at all.

As he walked past Monsieur Bonnefoy, he shot him a look that suggested they would meet and discuss the matter again, whether he wanted to or not.

And the Frenchman knew it as well as he did.

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

I just threw in a shirtless Cuba for the fun of it. Because there's no denying that would be very hot. ^_^

About Greece putting his arms against the wall over Matthew? Even hotter.

And Lady Blackwood is someone I hope to never meet in real life. Even I don't like her and I was the one who made her!

The thing about Matthew not accepting what Heracles does is more of the fact that she tends to stereotype men. Because of how she grew up, she views them in two ways. That they are nice (as she holds her brother up on a pedestal) and that they are corrupted perverts (seeing how she continually mentions that they only want her in _that _sort of way). Black and white. Good and bad.

With that said, her conflicting views about Heracles, who was both nice to her and yet was portrayed in a shady way, made her react in the way that she did. By accusing him and feeling almost betrayed. I hoped that cleared things up for the readers. I didn't want to make Matthew's outburst seem out of nowhere.


	8. Enter Mr Jones

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

_" Give me thy hand,_  
_ And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds."_

~ Orsino_, _Act 5, Scene 1 (Twelfth Night)_  
_

**Chapter 8** - Enter Mr Jones**  
**

By no means was Mr Jones a man who didn't know his place in the world.

He walked as a man of importance. And he should. After all, he was one of the few people not overwhelmed and handicapped by the Depression. How he did it, no one was quite sure how.

And he was most unlikely any other gentleman living during these times. He was loud when he should be quiet. He was smiling when he should be solemn. When he should have walked, he chose to run. He was always restless, always moving, never spending even a sliver of his time to plan or think ahead. He chose to act quick and fast, whether it was the correct or wrong. He did them because of what he believed to be right, not what others said. Mr Jones was an engima, a powerful force to be reckoned with.

He certainly had a handful of enemies and those who despised his methods and his way of thinking. They all whispered and grumbled under their breaths, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike Mr Jones down. But even during the Depression, Mr Jones remained strong and standing despite their efforts to destroy hin.

But one thing one would need to know about Mr Jones was that he actively and purposely strived to beat this Depression and "rescue" (in his very own words) his country and fellowmen.

Despite most people not sharing his optimism (many either downright laughing at his face or groaning at the eccentric idiocy of the man), Mr Jones was confident he would succeed. Even if his plans seemed a bit outrageous and perhaps a little scatter-brained at times.

_" Sir, it's just not possible to communicate with an extraterrestrial lifeform."_

_" For the last time, Mr Jones, there is no such thing as a tree that grows rolls of bills on its branches."_

_" As if we will provide the funds to build a robot that will fly around the world! What do you take us for, fools?"  
_

Nevertheless, Mr Jones was undeterred and he was determined to prove those so-called scientists and businessmen wrong.

Still, after wasting weeks of trying to convince them that his brilliant idea of building of a machine that would bring people to travel to distant planets of the galaxy, even Mr Jones was feeling a bit drained and his usual buoyant optimism wasn't as high as it normally was.

He found himself wandering aimlessly the streets on this particular evening, endlessly frustrated and irritated with his company. It was as if they didn't even cared about the rest of the people in the world suffering from poverty and starvation. A real hero (like him, of course) would do the right thing and help those people. But they were more worried about themselves and they even had the nerve to reject his ideas! At least Mr Jones was actively trying to think of a solution.

With a great sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to upset his glasses. No sooner did he looked up that his feet somehow ended up in front_ Le Château_, much to his surprise and pleasant delight. He always did have a soft spot for this place and most visits were very enjoyable and would find some ways to lift his spirits after a gruelling day.

And then there was this mysterious Lady in Red that had been circulating around in the whispers of people and having reached his ears and curiosity ...

Smiling a bit wider and brushing aside all previous weariness, Mr Jones strolled into_ Le Château_ with an air of confidence that no one would have suspected that he could ever be discouraged.

Inhaling the familiar scent that he had missed, he gazed around the bustling diner area. On stage, he spotted Bella easily charming the audience with her dancing act, kicking out her long legs to the jazzy beat, her long golden tresses flowing behind her and her lovely green eyes deviously winking, causing an eruption of cheers and whistles. He absently wondered to himself whether the Lady in Red would be performing tonight.

" Matthew? What are you doing here?" someone jovially shouted. Irritated that someone got his name wrong, Mr Jones turned to see his long-time adversary Adelio approaching him with a carefree grin. " I thought Feliks dragged you off for the ... "

Adelio's facial expression immediately changed when he saw the half-amused smirk on Mr Jones's face. The previously amiable smile was wiped off and replaced by a more distasteful one. " Oh, it's you. What are you doing here, Mr Jones?" he spat out the last part.

" Can't a person enjoy his favorite restaurant?" Mr Jones huffed crossly, not noticing the dark shadow that flew across the Cuban's face. " It's not like I'm bothering anyone or pushing my beliefs onto them so they could live a better life just like me."

" Forgive me if I didn't think your ego would have handled it, Mr Jones," Adelio gritted out, fists clenched at the sides.

" Apology accepted!" All at once, Mr Jones's bright smile could have illuminated the darkest room. " I knew you would see things my way."

" What did you say, you bastard?"

" Adelio. Adelio." The man called Lars somehow appeared from nowhere, casually looping an arm around Adelio's shoulders, sighing like a disappointed parent. " Stop standing around and flirting with Matthew. It's getting too obvious."

Spluttering, Adelio turned a deep red, something Mr Jones had never seen before. " I am NOT flirting with Matthew. And this ISN'T Matthew," he snapped, jabbing a finger at Mr Jones.

That's when Lars actually looked at him, visibly taken back. He stared, leaning closer to look at Mr Jones, who frowned in disapproval. How could anyone miss his face? _I suppose it had to do with Monsieur Bonnefoy hiring the not-so-bright employees_, he wryly thought.

" You are not Matthew," Lars finally said, slowly dragging out his words.

It was bad already that the Cuban got his name wrong. Now, this guy (what was his name again?) got it wrong too. It was as if the whole world had gone out of balance. " I know I'm not Matthew," Mr Jones indignantly said. " I should know my own name, should I?"

Lars laughed, an irritating sound. " Of course, sir. Everyone should know their own name."

Adelio snorted in agreement. Feeling as if this man was stealthily insulting him, Mr Jones scowled. " My seat, if you would?" he coldly asked.

" This way," Lars immediately chirped, directing him to the tables.

But no sooner then they passed by Adelio (who deliberately shouldered Mr Jones before he returned to his post at the entrance), they spotted a group of men harassing a waiter, whose only reflection of his emotions was a faint tint of pink on his cheeks. Who happened to be wearing an elegant maid outfit that exemplified his stoical grace.

" I have to get back to work," he (who Mr Jones had now recognized as the ever quiet and emotionless Chinese boy Shen) calmly said.

" Aww, come on baby. Don't be like that," one of the men smirked.

" We won't bite. Promise," another silkily said, wrapping an uninviting arm around Shen's bare shoulders.

At this, Lars rolled his eyes, muttering something about how thankful he was for not being dragged into this mess and approached the table to tell the men off, leaving Mr Jones unattended and without a seat.

Grumbling to himself, Mr Jones hovered between remain standing there looking like a fool or following after Lars. As he peered over the heads of other customers, watching Lars smugly point out to the men that the 'waitress' they were flirting with was actually a guy, his gaze caught a glimpse of another maid passing by. One that looked very familiar ...

" Toris?" Mr Jones gasped in stunned realization.

With a start, the boy flushed. " M-Mr Jones," he stammered, ducking his head in embarrassment.

" What on earth happened to you? And why is every waiter wearing that?"

Turning redder, Toris looked everywhere except at Mr Jones. He nervously twined his hands behind his back. " It was - it was required for all waiters and waitresses to wear this for tonight," he finally mumbled.

Mr Jones barked out a laugh. " Your friend Feliks on a rampage again?"

" Unfortunately, yes. And Monsieur Bonnefoy did sort of encouraged him," Toris sighed, trying to unsuccessfully smooth the frills of his dress. " I best get back to work. I'll see you around, sir." With a smile, Toris slipped away into the kitchen, leaving Mr Jones still without a seat.

Feeling exasperated, he simply found myself an empty spot and sat there. " I'm filing a compliant," he muttered.

" Ahh, Mr Jones! How good to see you again," a voice exclaimed.

Monsieur Bonnefoy appeared seemingly from nowhere, just as extravagant and magnificent as he had ever seen the Frenchman, dressed in blue, red and white. " How are you on this lovely evening?" he beamed happily, his very smile almost blinding Mr Jones. Of course, the real reason why the Frenchman was so happy was because he had another guest in _Le Château_. Which meant getting more money.

" You really need to get new help around here. Your lackeys mistaken me for someone else," Mr Jones scowled. " For this mysterious Matthew person. Not that he could look as handsome and awesome as me."

Monsieur Bonnefoy's amused smile only irked him more. Like he knew something that Mr Jones didn't. And Mr Jones simply hated that feeling of waiting for someone else to tell him the answer when he should have clearly known all the answers. " I cannot blame them," Monsieur Bonnefoy shrugged. " After all, we have recently gained a new employer who - resembles you exactly on a physical level. Quite remarkable if you ask me."

The idea that someone else shared his good looks interested him. " I would like to meet this person," he declared, grinning with the excitement of a child about to be rewarded with candy.

In his eagerness to meet this mysterious look-a-like of his, Mr Jones failed to see the mischievous twinkle in Monsieur Bonnefoy's eyes. " This way, monsieur." He directed Mr Jones towards the back of the hallway, who immediately left his seat.

" Isn't this where your employees get dress and stuff?" he asked, passing by a cluster of glittering dresses hung on a clothes hanger.

" Yes. Our fashion designer has to prime every one of our employees before they perform. Here we are," Monsieur Bonnefoy promptly said.

They stood in front of a door with a sign scribbled in a hasty writing. _Keep out. Anyone that comes in will be totally dead. _

Mr Jones was amused. Monsieur Bonnefoy wasn't. He irritably knocked on the door. " Feliks? Are you done yet?" he barked.

There was a shuffling of footsteps, a yelp from inside and an irritable grumble. " We would be finished much faster if you stop bothering us," a voice snapped, sounding breathless and very miffed. " Now leave us alone!"

" We have customers waiting to be served," Monsieur Bonnefoy retorted with another series of knocks. " What's taking you so long?"

Feliks chose not to reply. From inside, he mumbled something under his breath. " Now hold still," he spoke to the one in the room. " I'm just seconds away from completing my masterpiece. And ... there! Perfect!"

" We can come in now?" Monsieur Bonnefoy crossly asked. Mr Jones snickered, highly amused by the whole commotion.

" Yes. Yes. No!" Feliks abruptly said, changing his mind halfway through. " Why don't _we_ come to _you_?"

The blond poked his head out, grinning like a tomcat. With a sly wink (whether at Mr Jones or Monsieur Bonnefoy, Mr Jones did not want to find out), he opened the door fully and pushed out his said masterpiece.

Mr Jones's eyes widened at the sight of this (boy? girl? person?) being dragged out the door by Feliks, blushing furiously and trembling like a little leaf. " I - I can't go out like this!" the ( - girl, Mr Jones finally decided on) was saying and to his surprise, it was a shyly embarrassed stutter barely above a whisper.

It was as if he was looking into a mirror and seeing a feminine version of himself blinking back. As Monsieur Bonnefoy had mentioned earlier, the likeness of their features were stunning. If the two of them were to stand side by side in the same clothing, it would be almost impossible to tell them apart. Their hair twined and rippled in the same manner. Their noses were shaped the same, poised and curved enough to support the glasses that sat neatly at the bridge of their noses. Even the shape of their faces were the same, angled smoothly at their chins, a teasing dimple alight at the corner of their mouths.

The only remarkable difference between them (other than the obvious gender difference) was that her eyes were a glowing amethyst, a rarity upon rarities. Absently to himself, Mr Jones wondered if those eyes would glitter in the sun like a jewel or glow in the dark like a cat's.

" Don't be silly," Feliks cheerfully replied, now pulling the girl out from the protection of the room and out into the hallway and closer to the dining hall, where many customers were caught staring dumbfounded (and some rather eagerly) at the adorable maid and whose cheeks were as red as tomato. He elbowed her, jerking his head knowingly towards said leering customers. " See? They totally love you already."

" B-b-b-b-but -"

" _Tu es belle_!" Monsieur Bonnefoy squealed, immediately latching onto the maid, who if possible turned an even darker crimson. " I knew you would exceed my expectations," he jovially gushed out, holding out his arms and carefully inspecting the little apron nipping at her knees, the lacy white headband folding on top of glimmering golden curls, the exposed ebony satin stockings over smooth pale flesh and a revealing neckline that sparked more than enough interest and delight.

The maid squirmed under his grip. " I can't breath ..."

He didn't even realize she had spoken. "Every inch of perfection, I'd say," he proudly declared.

Thanks to Mr Jones' sharp eyes, he spied a French hand reaching and stroking the maid's back, much to her embarrassment. " Ahh, Monsieur Bonnefoy!" she squeaked in alarm.

Monsieur Bonnefoy either ignored her or didn't hear what she had said. " So cute," he was murmuring, barely loud enough for Mr Jones who stood away in the distance.

Mr Jones had to admit that the blushing scarlet on the girl's cheeks and her stammering protests were delightfully pleasing to the eyes. Still, he knew Monsieur Bonnefoy well enough to know that if given the chance, those lurking hands would eventually reach much lower and further down her back. And he wasn't sure how much more of the girl's chastity could handle being tainted by the deprivation of Monsieur Bonnefoy.

After all, it was a hero's job to save a lady in distress.

Not a moment too soon (before Monsieur Bonnefoy could molest the poor girl any longer), Mr Jones bumped "accidentally" into him, smiling hugely as he had always done.

" Bonnefoy, I'm disappointed you haven't introduced us already," he promptly declared, leaning sideways to carefully break up the closeness between Monsieur Bonnefoy and the girl.

" My deepest apologies." Monsieur Bonnefoy winked deviously at him. " This is our latest recruit. Joined us last week."

Mr Jones inconspicuously examined the girl from head to toe. Now that they stood side by side, it would get alarmingly difficult to tell who was who, despite the two of them wearing two very differing clothes. Which probably explained why the rest of _Le Château_'s employees kept mistaking him for someone else (a grave insult nevertheless in his mind).

Her beauty was neither exotic or stunning like the other female (and certain male) residents of_ Le Château_. Instead, she was pretty because she specifically _lacked_ those traits. There was something about the way her violet-blue eyes sparkled under the dim lighting, the way she fidgeted nervously under his gaze and the way she protectively wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off the stares from customers that certainly unwittingly brought his attention towards her.

" Hello, miss." He took her hand and kissed it, as any gentleman would. When she gasped in surprise, stammering incohesively, he put on his most charming smile and to his delight, the girl wilted and didn't make another sound. " I suppose you have a real name?" he teased, his voice low and beguiling.

" My name is Matthew Williams," 'she' muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Wait. Matthew?

His jaw dropped. This was a boy? Now it was his turn to flush with embarrassment. He immediately let go of Matthew's hand and Matthew audibly breathed in relief. No wonder 'she' was so embarrassed when he took 'her' hand.

Then it hit him. Monsieur Bonnefoy was setting him up the whole time. When he looked up, he could see the Frenchman and Feliks fighting to keep a mirthful smirk from appearing on their faces. He could now hear the light chuckles from the other customers and his cheeks reddened, both from the mortification of being played with and himself for mistaking this _boy_ for a girl.

Admittedly, a feminine boy. But a boy nonetheless. No wonder that man Lars was teasing Adelio for having a crush on him!

" Well ... ahem, sorry about the confusion," he finally muttered, hating himself for the embarrassment in his voice and hating Monsieur Bonnefoy for taking advantage of his chivalry to protect the fair not-so-lady.

" It's all right," Matthew smiled with a bit of amusement and sympathy on his part. " It happened often to me. And I get mistaken for you a lot too," he added.

" It's not that hard to miss _our_ handsome faces," Mr Jones grinned. To his amusement and delight, Matthew blushed.

" Shame you didn't work for me," Monsieur Bonnefoy sighed longingly to himself. " Otherwise, I could have had a performance of twins. And how many customers I would have if I did." He twittered happily to himself. Matthew and Mr Jones looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he meant.

Without missing a beat, Monsieur Bonnefoy flashed a smile. " Now then Matthew, why don't you show Mr Jones his seat?"

Feliks loudly snorted. His smile not wavering, Mr Jones followed Matthew back to the dining hall.

~.~.~

Matthew zig-zagged her way through the clutter of chairs and tables, many already seated by customers, some who kept an attentive eye on her. A few even called suggestively to her. She promptly ignored them, dropping her head, so her hair would cover her face.

" You shouldn't duck your head down at them," Mr Jones suddenly said.

She blinked at him. " Sir?"

" They're just jealous. You shouldn't be offended by standing next to me." He smiled toothily at her and all she could do was return one.

" Ahh, Matthew. Just the one I was looking for," a voice called out. They both turned and saw a beaming Mr Kirkland raising a hand in greeting from his table. Only to see Mr Jones and his pleasant tone changed instantaneously, hand dropping like a stone in water. " Mr Jones," he tersely scowled.

In return, Mr Jones's smile was a mixture of a frown and a sneer. " Good evening, Kirkland. Up to your usual tricks, I see?"

The British man spluttered indignantly. " What tricks? What are you accusing me of now, Jones?"

" Nothing. Nothing at all." The smirk on Mr Jones's face was enough to warrant suspicion. With an arrogant sort of swagger, he promptly sat down at Mr Kirkland's table, grin widening at the sight of Mr Kirkland turning purple and Matthew helplessly staring.

" What are you doing here? This is my table," Mr Kirkland snapped.

Mr Jones shrugged. " What? It's not like you're expecting someone."

Judging from his mutters and his ace turning more darker with bottled up anger, Mr Jones was right. Finally, Mr Kirkland calmed himself down and when he looked at Matthew (thus decidedly ignoring Mr Jones), he appeared serene. " Tea, please. One bag of sugar and a cup of cream, if you would please," he airily said, pleasantly smiling at her, though it seemed a bit strained.

" My God, you still drink that stuff?" Mr Jones snorted an ungentlemanly sound. " I'll get coffee by the way," he added aside to Matthew. " Now that's a real drink. Unlike your cup of muddy water."

" It's not muddy water, you git! At least it has much more alleviating effects than your coffee."

" Of course it does. And I suppose it could cure every disease out in the world," he snorted disbelievingly, making Mr Kirkland glower. Matthew took this time to quietly slip away, since neither man noticed her at the moment.

Well, she _tried_ to slip away quietly because at that moment, Mr Jones abruptly turned to Matthew. " You there, what's your name again?" he asked her blithely, completely forgetting the conversation they had only minutes ago.

" Matthew Williams," she reminded him, with a slightly cooler tone.

" Ahh, yes, yes. I remember now." He casually waved his hand, as if brushing aside her annoyance.

The fact that Mr Jones was showing interest in Matthew made Mr Kirkland even more irritable. " Must you insist on bothering the poor lad?" he growled. " He has enough on his plate without having you hovering over him like a bat."

" Who are you calling a bat?" Mr Jones grumbled, straightening his glasses. " Besides, Matthew and I are friends." With those words said, he stood up and wrapped an arm around Matthew. Both to Mr Kirkland and Matthew's surprise.

" I've known Matthew longer than you," Mr Kirkland seethed, fists clenched in his lap.

" So?" Mr Jones smirked lazily. He gripped Matthew's chin, tilting her dangerously close to his face. Whether he noticed the increasing red on her cheeks, he didn't say. " For all I know, she could be my long-lost twin sister. I mean twin brother," Mr Jones quickly amended, shooting Matthew an apologetic wink that sent her into another rush of crimson.

Mr Kirkland spluttered, turning red himself by their interactions. " As if!"

Even as he said that, Matthew herself couldn't help but wonder.

" Matthew is far too nice and innocent to be related to the likes of you," Mr Kirkland was saying indignantly. " Now, let go of him and sit back down. Your embarrassing behavior is mortifying."

Sticking out his tongue playfully, Mr Jones did as he was told. Politely excusing herself, Matthew hurried away as their argument had now taken a completely different direction and they were currently bickering heatedly about the stock markets. Yong Soo who was also getting drinks for his customers and looking cheerfully perky in his maid outfit, nudged her with the enthusiasm of an earnest child.

" If we're lucky, Mr Kirkland will accidentally drink a bit of wine and then he'll start stripping to his undergarments in front of everyone," he giggled, anxiously spying the table over his shoulder. " And Mr Jones gets this deer-in-headlights look (which originated from Korea, by the way) when Mr Kirkland does it. Like he doesn't know what to do for once in his life."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. Mr Jones not knowing what to do? _Wouldn't that be amusing_, she mused.

After at long last meeting the mysterious Mr Jones that everyone knew, she supposed that she could understand why some people like Adelio and Mr Kirkland had a conflicting opinion about him. There was smarmy arrogance in the way Mr Jones presented himself, in the way he talked, in the way he walked. He knew himself to be the center of attention and he relished in it. He was quick to praise himself and quick to point out the flaws of others, particularly Mr Kirkland.

Yet, Matthew had to admit that Mr Jones was unexplainably charismatic and fascinating to be around. He was handsome, charming and most of all, rich. At least, rich enough to live comfortably in the Depression. His clothing and his well-founded knowledge was proof of that.

And after Mr Jones said it first, they looked so alike it was as if there were twins. What were the chances of her meeting another person who shared the same face as hers? One to a million, that was what. But Matthew couldn't help but be pestered with a particular idea. Could it possibly be -

No, she argued, shaking her head as if to clear it. Her brother, who was so kind and always smiling, who tucked her into bed and read her favourite stories to her, who held her hand warmly as they walked home after school, was nothing like this Mr Jones. This pompously egotistic man couldn't be possibly even related to her. And like that, she brushed the very notion that Mr Jones could be her brother.

Even in the crowded, clamorous dining area, she could still hear Mr Jones' voice from where he sat, one arm casually over the back of the chair. " I can't believe you actually believe in that silly folk tale," he was laughing. " Just how old are you again?"

" I'm not old!" Mr Kirkland angrily retorted, almost upsetting his plate.

" Just look at those eyebrows. If those don't belong to an old man's, I'll swallow my glasses."

" Here, why don't I help you with that, you bastard!"

" They fight like a married couple," Matthew joked to Yong Soo, as she added cream to Mr Kirkland's tea.

He grinned. " If you think they are bad, then you should see the rows that Monsieur and Mr Kirkland have. Like a pair of cats and dogs."

Holding back a chuckle, she headed back to Mr Kirkland and Mr Jones' table. " Your tea and coffee, sir," Matthew announced as she set the beverages down. However, they didn't appear to notice her, too enrapt in their bickerings, so she simply left the drinks where they could avoid the worst of the quarrel.

No sooner than she turned around to serve another table, her eye caught a glimpse of dark brown hair and emotionless green eyes staring back at her.

Heracles stood near the kitchens, having thankfully escaped from Feliks' rampages and was wearing a simple white shirt and dress pants. He watched her from the shadows, barely even blinking.

They hadn't spoken since their last encounter on the first floor. Heracles had made no indication that he wished to speak to her since then and neither did she. But here, as they continued to stare at each other in the hallway, there was a strong silent need for them to talk and try to settle this silent argument between them.

At long last, Heracles made a motion with his hand to beckon her to him. Nodding once, Matthew slipped away from the diner area and approached him. Without a word, he pressed a finger to his lips. Then, he took her wrist and led her away from the diner area. Heart beating faster, Matthew simply followed him like a docile lamb.

Arriving at one of the now empty and quiet acting rooms, he gently ushered her in and closed the door behind him. " Didn't want anyone to hear," he murmured.

Nodding silently again, it was all Matthew to do at the moment. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them and she fiddled nervously with her lacy apron, trying to find the right words. He looked just as uncomfortable and he appeared to be looking down at his shoes. Should she greet him first? Casually ask him how he avoided Feliks? Or should she just get right to the point?

In the end, Heracles beat her to it.

" Have you changed your mind?" he finally asked, still mumbling to the floor. " About us? About ... me?"

After that night, she had thought about it long and hard for many days. And at long last, she came to this conclusion.

" No," she simply answered, smiling a weary smile.

Heracles understood. He didn't seem upset or angry. Only curious. " Because I've seen what those kinds of people did," Matthew continued. She involuntarily shivered, rubbing her arms as if there was a sudden chill. " And I don't think I could ever forgive them for it."

A memory of a shadowed man whispering in a low guttural voice to her obedient mother as they laid tangled in bed made the skin at the back of her neck rise. Her throat went dry as she remembered being associated with prostitutes and tramps, watching them do business at the local taverns while she worked. If there was something she hated about her mother, it was the fact she shamelessly sold her body off to ravenous men, trying to earn a few extra bucks.

Sometimes those men would hungrily and greedily watch Matthew as she passed by, like she was theirs. Like they owned her. And there were many nights where she hid underneath her bed, praying that they weren't going to come for her or that her mother wouldn't sell her to them.

There was a long pause and Heracles didn't say a word. He watched her intently, his green eyes searching deeply. Matthew cleared her throat, unhinging her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

" But," she continued steadily, as if nothing had happened. " I know you're a good person, no matter what you do. Same with the others. You're not like the people I had seen and I have no right to judge you. You're different. You all welcomed me here and I couldn't ask for a more friendly place." A grateful smile appeared on Matthew's face. " I'm sorry that I didn't realize it earlier." For the first time in their conversation, she looked straight at him in the eye. " So we're all right?" she hopefully asked.

Then, a smile dawned over his face and for the hundredth time, Matthew understood why Heracles was the most popular male inhabitant of _Le Château_. " We're all right," he murmured.

They said nothing for some time, simply staring at each other, smiling like a pair of fools. It was then that Matthew realized just how close they were standing together. So close that she could see her own small reflection glittering in his irises.

Just like the time she had seen Adelio without his shirt and all his muscles and chest was revealed for her to see and stare unblinkingly and blushingly like a child caught red-handed trying to steal. Her heart had been fluttering recklessly out of control and sweat glistening on her palms, just like what was happening to her now. Why her body was reacting in this way, Matthew didn't know or understand.

" Heracles ..." she began.

" There you are, Matthew," a voice called out.

And just like that, the spell was broken and Heracles swiftly withdrew and though she outwardly sighed in relief, her mind was sighing disappointingly at the possibility of what could have happened.

Roderich entered the room, oblivious that they were in the midst of something. " Matthew, where have you been all this time?" he sternly asked. " Monsieur has been asking for you and you have guests to serve. What are you both doing here in the first place?" His eyes suspiciously flicked back and forth from Heracles and Matthew.

It was Heracles who answered first.

" Nothing," he quietly admitted. " Nothing at all."

~.~.~.~

**Author's Notes:**

_Tu es beau_ (French) - You are beautiful

For the fun of it, I chose to write this chapter in Mr Jones's perspective in the beginning. It made it more fun when he kept thinking Matthew was a 'girl'. Not that he was entirely wrong ...

The quote said by Orsino, the lead male from the play **_Twelfth Night_**, is speaking to the female lead Viola, who he now knows is a girl and not a boy. And he is telling Viola that he would like to see her in woman's clothing. Which is reversed in this case, where Mr Jones is seeing Matthew in female clothes rather than in male clothes. Not that he minds ...

**Edited**: I decided to change a few things after a few reviewers pointed out some things to me. For those reviewers, thank you so much for helping me! It was mainly about Matthew not even thinking that Mr Jones could be her brother. Like what I had added above, Matthew simply holds her brother on a pedestral, that he is perfect and the best brother in the world and she is only basing this from what she remembers of him. Compared Mr Jones to the other potential brothers (Monsieur Bonnefoy, Lars and Mr Kirkland), who had all treated her kindly. Matthew would be more swayed that they have more traits suited for her brother. And the fact that Mr Jones has many unfavourable flaws simply makes her see that Mr Jones doesn't fit into her supposed ideal brother.


End file.
